


Two Pineapples and a Dum Dum

by Hannah_BWTM, HoneyMayBee, PussNHikingBoots



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019), Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: (almost) all the psych tropes, 80's Music, Case Fic, Food, Friendship, Funny, Gen, Humor, Lots of Food, Movie References, New York City, Shawn & Gus stuff their faces, fist bumps galore, man crushes, real psychics vs fake psychics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27178690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannah_BWTM/pseuds/Hannah_BWTM, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyMayBee/pseuds/HoneyMayBee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PussNHikingBoots/pseuds/PussNHikingBoots
Summary: A humorous crossover case fic with PSon and psych. Shawn and Gus vacation in NYC where they stumble upon Gil’s team working a case. Shawn, being Shawn, cannot help but stick his nose into their business. Much silliness ensues. Will Shawn find any pineapples in the Big Apple? Will Gus get to see a Broadway play? Find out what happens when Santa Barbara’s most fakest psychic detective, Shawn Spencer, goes up against New York City’s most bestest real profiler, Malcolm Bright. And for the love of god, maybe the Universe’s most burning question will be answered: who has better hair?Gus squints as he reads over the summary again, “You sure about this, Shawn?”Shawn nods, “I’ve never been more surer in my whole life, Gus. And by the way, it’s me. My hair is better, right?”NOTE:As per usual with Shawn and Gus, there will be a lot of pop-culture references throughout this story. I have listed the references that appear in each chapter at the end of that relevant chapter. So if you want to play a littlepsychgame, see if you can spot the references as you read through, and then check how you did at the end of each chapter.
Relationships: Burton "Gus" Guster & Shawn Spencer, Burton "Gus" Guster & Shawn Spencer & Malcolm Bright
Comments: 26
Kudos: 31
Collections: Prodigal Son Big Bang 2020 - Tuesday Posts





	1. Donuts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/gifts), [Leif Writes (FrankensteinsMomster)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankensteinsMomster/gifts).



> I would like to thank my entire Big Bang team for all of their hard work and support. I had so much fun writing this, and it was such a pleasure to work with all of you! 
> 
> To my co-writer, Hannah_BWTM: I hit the jackpot of co-writers! It was an absolute joy to write this with you. Thank you so much for all of your time, energy, ideas, and of course, your writing skills. You brought the Prodigal Son team to life and made sure Malcolm had a proper voice, helped to move the story along, and contributed in so many ways, large and small. This story would not be what it is without you. I hope you had as much fun as I did!
> 
> To my artist, HoneyMayBee: Your artwork sets the tone of the story before it even starts. I am giddy with excitement over how stinkin' cute these two are! I know you love our boys as much as I do and your work reflects that. You were the absolute perfect choice to co-create for this story. Also, you are a brainstorming QUEEN. Also, also, thank you for the sweet, sweet art edits for each chapter!! This fic is so Extra - I luv it.
> 
> To my beta’s, Jameena and Leif Writes (FrankensteinsMomster), thank you both so much for all of the work you put in – not just helping to give polish to the finished project, but your contributions of brainstorming and ideas right from the beginning. You are much appreciated!

“I call Aisle!” shouts Shawn as he and Gus walk swiftly through the Santa Barbara Airport towards their terminal, both of them super excited to spend an entire week in New York City.

“You can’t call Aisle, Shawn."

Shawn gives a tiny hop and jabs his forefinger toward Gus‘s face. “Aisle! I just did.”

“That means I’ll get stuck in the middle."

“With clowns to the left of you and jokers to the right?"

“Only if you plan on cloning yourself and sitting in _both_ seats. You know I hate sitting in the middle. What if I have to get up to go pee? That means you’ll have to get up, too.”

“Oh Gus, don't be the dentist appointment I canceled last week.”

“That was my appointment you canceled, Shawn!"

“Oops.”

“Fine, Shawn. But if the window seat is occupied by a fine female, you cannot uncall Aisle. That’s the rule! Hey, look! There’s a Dunkin’ Donuts.”

“You can’t buy ‘em in a bakery.”

“Let’s get some for the flight.”

“They’re not for sale in a restaurant.”

They stop at the kiosk where Gus orders a small container of mixed MUNCHKINS® and Shawn opts for a Boston Kreme. Shawn takes a bite and holds up his doughnut. “It’s worth the trip!” he exclaims with his mouth full. On his back is a knapsack with everything he will need for a week’s vacation haphazardly packed inside. Carry-on only. No reason to worry about lost luggage. Gus is carrying a leather briefcase with his laptop and a stylish messenger bag across his shoulder. He had checked his larger bag. No way would a week’s worth of clothing and sundries fit in just a little carry-on.

They arrive at their terminal with plenty of time to spare. Shawn hates the waiting part, but he does like to people-watch. And he especially likes the look of the pretty young woman behind the counter. She keeps tucking her shiny black hair behind her right ear so it doesn’t interfere with the computer screen. It isn’t long before an idea hits him. “Gus, give me your ticket."

Gus side-eyes his friend. “Are you trying to take back Aisle already? Is this a trick? Did you already see a fine female with a window seat ticket next to ours?”

“No, silly. I just had an idea – I thought I would try to get us an upgrade to first class. And why would I need to sit next to a fine female? I have a fine female waiting for me back in Santa Barbara. Not my fault that Jules chose to go to a family reunion instead of New York City."

“You were the one who refused to go to Juliet’s family reunion with her, Shawn. But I’m not complaining, because that means I get to go to New York City.

“I’ve already met the important family members. Besides, she tells me her Aunt Carol is a little handsy with the young men. I don’t want to be the one to break her Aunty’s heart.”

“Avoiding Handsy Aunty? I hear that. And you can try to get an upgrade, but you know that’s not gonna happen.”

“Never say never,” Shawn replies. He grabs both of their tickets, giving Gus a push to get him to come along, and hops up to the counter. Putting on his most charming smile, he holds out his tickets to the woman with the shiny hair.

“I’m Shawn Spencer, and this is my travel partner, Tin Tin Ticklebelly. There seems to have been a mistake. We were supposed to have first-class tickets, but we ended up with...,” he gives an exaggerated pout, “coach class.” We would like you to switch them back for us, please. Pretty please. Because you’re so pretty, please.”

The woman hesitates, but smiles at Shawn and takes the tickets from him. He could swear she is blushing a little. “A mistake? That’s unusual.”

Shawn knows his best bet is to talk and talk to cause enough confusion that maybe, just maybe, he’ll get his way. “Well, you see the thing is – crazy story – we actually paid for first-class tickets, but while we were finalizing our order, that’s when the battery in my phone died. Tin Tin wanted to use his phone, but I wouldn’t let him. Which is a shame, because if we had used his phone, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. Although truth be told, I’m not sorry we are. Did I mention how shiny your hair is? Anyway, then I had to plug my phone into the charger and wait a long time. And by the time I opened it up again – well, you know how glitchy these things are. And even though we paid for first-class tickets, we ended up getting these. And we were just wondering if you would be so kind as to give us back our original first-class tickets. The ones we paid for.”

The woman is already looking up the passenger information on the tickets she’s holding. She frowns. “I don’t see any mistake here.”

Just then, an older, gruff looking woman marches up to the counter. “What is going on here?”

Shiny Hair explains the situation. The older woman takes a look at the screen, takes a look at the tickets, and takes a look at Shawn and Gus. She’s no fool. She’s worked there long enough to know this game. She takes the two tickets and hands them back to Shawn. ”Sirs, the tickets you bought are _coach_ class. You are welcome to upgrade to first class for $953.00. _Each_. But there is no mistake here. What would you like to do?" Her tone makes it clear that Shawn will not be able to talk his way out of this one.

“I guess we’ll just hold onto these,” says Shawn, cheerfully waving them in the air for emphasis.

“That’s what I thought,“ said the older woman, directing her comment to the younger woman behind the counter.

Shawn gives the younger woman one last look. “Seriously though, what kind of conditioner do you use?” Gus pulls him away by the arm. They walk over to the seats to wait for boarding.

“Tin Tin Ticklebelly?” Gus gives his friend a withering look to let him know that was probably one of the worst monikers ever bestowed on him in the history of Shawn and Gus.

“Okay, maybe that wasn’t my finest ever, but it almost worked! She almost gave us first class!”

“ _Almost_ doesn’t count, Shawn."

“It does if you’re playing horseshoes or hand grenades."

We’re not playing horseshoes. O _r_ hand grenades. You should’ve let me get us first-class tickets originally,” he admonishes.

“What do you mean I _should_ have? I tried to get you to buy first class but you were being Scroogey McScrooge.”

“Did you hear how much more those tickets are, Shawn? I didn’t buy them, because _you_ weren’t willing to pay for yours." I should’ve bought one for myself and let you sit all alone in coach!”

******

Finally, they board and make their way down the aisle, Gus in the lead, trying to avoid tripping over feet or bumping passengers with their carry-ons. Gus frowns and double-checks his ticket, but he is indeed looking at the correct number. The passenger sitting by the window looks for all the world like he just crawled out of a dumpster, sound asleep, mouth open and drooling onto his arm as his body slumps over into the middle seat. The very seat Gus is supposed to sit in.

“Thanks a lot, Shawn!”

******

“You chose this place because it has the name ‘Carlton’ in it, didn’t you, Shawn?”

The two are standing in the lobby of the Carlton Arms Hotel, waiting for the proprietor to come back out with the keys. Shawn shoots off a quick text to Juliet to let her know they arrived safely.

“Now, why would I do that, Gus? It’s just a happy accident that we can tease Carlton Lassiter about later. I chose this place because it has _cats._ Who doesn’t like cats?”

One of the hotel’s resident felines is rubbing against Gus’s pant leg. “Lots of people don’t like cats, Shawn,“ He bends down to scratch the animal’s head, “but I’m not one of them." He switches into baby talk mode to address the cat, “Isn’t that right, you little cutie? Isn’t that right?"

The proprietor comes back to give them their keys and room number and explain the shared hall bath situation and a little bit of history about the hotel itself. Shawn and Gus are delighted with the artwork and trinkets that seem to take up every corner of the place. Even their room has murals on the walls.

“Do you think this place has ghosts?" asks Gus. The thought makes him shudder from both fear and excitement.

“Probably. Maybe we’ll find out tonight.”

Gus had argued endlessly with Shawn about staying in a fancy hotel in Times Square, but now he’s glad that he lost that fight. This place is really cool and less than half the price.

“I’m hungry, Gus. Hungry like the wolf. Let’s go see what they have to eat around here."

“Good idea.” They each claim a bed with their luggage, tuck their key into a pocket, and exit the hotel to see what is within walking distance.

As soon as Shawn steps out of the hotel onto the city block, he gives a mighty shout, startling Gus.

“I’m BACK!”

“What do you mean, _‘back?’_

“Back in the New York groove!”

Gus clicks his tongue. “You’ve never been here before in your life.”

“Well, Gus, I think I’ve watched enough movies that I qualify as an honorary New Yorker.”

“Then I would have to qualify, too. Ya know, I’m thinking that after dinner, we should probably turn in early. That way we can avoid the worst of the jet lag."

“I don’t believe in ‘jet lag,’ Gus,” says Shawn, putting air quotes around ‘jet lag.’

“I’m serious, Shawn. Tomorrow is going to be rough if we don’t turn in early."

“We’re in New York City, Gus! The city that _literally_ never sleeps. At least according to Frankie. And you’re worried about a little ‘jet lag’?” Air quotes again. “Please tell me you’re not going to be a wet blanket this entire trip."

“Oh, I plan to sink my teeth into the Big Apple, all right!”

“That is a creepy metaphor.” Shawn spreads his arms wide and tilts his head to the sky. “But this _is_ amazing, Gus! It’s like being in almost every movie _ever_.”

“I hear that,” agrees Gus, looking up at the tall buildings surrounding them. “Except for _The Breakfast Club_. It’s not like being in _The Breakfast Club_. Speaking of movies, we’re _definitely_ seeing a show on Broadway,” Gus announces, “preferably more than one.”

“We will definitely find you some babes to pick up in Times Square,” answers Shawn.

“And high-class shopping – I’m prepared to drop some serious cheddar in this town.”

“Personally, I’m looking forward to following an Asian woman down a back alley to purchase some swap meet Louie. Only genuine designer handbags for my Juliet!”

“And I have a list of five star restaurants I am dying to try.”

“Gus, don’t you know – street vendor food is the best food.”

“Okay, you got me there. But we also _have_ to check out the MoMA.”

“Is that a prostitute, Gus? I plan to spend all my money on swap meet Louie. I’m not gonna have enough left over for a prostitute.”

“The MoMA is the Museum of Modern Art, and I plan to go whether _you_ want to or not.”

******

During dinner, they fight over which play to see. Gus has his eye on _Ain't Too Proud—The Life and Times of the Temptations_ and Shawn, on _Aladdin._ In the end, they decide on _The Phantom of the Opera._ After all, Phantoms are _almost_ as good as ghosts.

* * *

**CHAPTER NOTES / REFERENCES  
  
_RATING WARNING (applies to ALL Chapter Notes):  
There may be a few references that link to items that are more on the R-rated side, mostly for language and sometimes implied sexual content (never explicit), __but for the most part, the notes are the same rating as the story itself.  
_  
**

  * “That means I’ll get stuck in the middle."  
“With clowns to the left of you and jokers to the right?"  
  
[Stuck in the Middle with You - Stealers Wheel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OMAIsqvTh7g)  
  
  
  

  * “Oh Gus, don't be the dentist appointment I canceled last week.”  
“That was my appointment you canceled, Shawn!"  
  
_Credit for this "Gus, don't be..." line goes to Christopher Black from the Get psyched Facebook Group.  
  
_  
  

  * “You can’t buy ‘em in a bakery.”  
“They’re not for sale in a restaurant.”  
“It’s worth the trip!”  
  
[Dunkin’ Donuts commercial, 1980](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lS4RvFT4kaI)  
  
  
  

  * _Shawn and Gus are staying at the Carlton Arms Hotel because I have stayed there several times, and I love that place._  
_They do have artwork and trinkets everywhere. And they do have resident felines._  
  
[Carlton Arms Hotel](http://carltonarms.com/)  
  
  
  

  * “I’m hungry, Gus. Hungry like the wolf."  
  
[Hungry Like The Wolf - Duran Duran](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1pNyRlNc6fE)  
  
  
  

  * “I’m BACK! Back in the New York groove!”  
  
[New York Groove - Ace Frehley](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hdvc5AmrzlM)  
  
  
  

  * "We’re in New York City, Gus! The city that _literally_ never sleeps.  
At least according to Frankie."



[New York New York - Frank Sinatra](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XoLy6JbuVjE)  
  
  


  * “Except for _The Breakfast Club_. It’s not like being in _The Breakfast Club."_  
  
_A shout-out to_ psych _for including almost every member of_ The Breakfast Club _as a guest star, with the exception of Emilio Estevez, whom they at least give mention to in one of the episodes as one of Shawn's pseudonyms, 'Emilio Estevez Estevez.'  
  
_[psych Guest Stars from The Breakfast Club](https://ibb.co/y0J74Wx)



  * “Personally, I’m looking forward to following an Asian woman down a back alley to purchase some swap meet Louie."  
  
[Swap Meet Louie - Sir Mix-A-Lot](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q0IrjFamL2c)




	2. Fanta

“Edrisa, you made it!” Malcolm cries, his face lighting up at the sight of his favourite Medical Examiner at his very own second-story front door.

Edrisa beams as she walks into the loft, lollipops and Fanta® in hand. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world! Lunch and a movie with my favourite crime-fighting team? How could I say no! And, if it turns into a cuddle party…..”

“It is _not_ turning into a cuddle party, Edrisa,” JT calls out from the couch.

“Okay, okay, that was a long shot. Oooh, what about a karaoke party? I know a great place where you get-“

“Do you want to stay or not?” Gil interjects.

Edrisa’s face falls slightly before her smile returns. “I thought it might be a tough sell. Never mind. I’ve got Dum•Dums and Fanta, I am good to go!”

“So, I guess we’ll be scraping her off the ceiling in a bit, huh?” Dani mumbles to Malcolm.

He scoffs slightly before replying, “She’ll be fine. She can have my share of the pizza. Now that we’re all here, we can discuss which movie we’ll be watching today. My vote is for _To Catch a Killer.”_

“No. No way,” JT jumps in. “We just arrested a guy for murder yesterday, we are not spending our day off watching a serial killer film.” He squirms for a second before jumping up to join the group. “What is wrong with this couch, man?”

Malcolm looks slightly dejected. “All of the films I have are about serial killers. Oooh, what about _Wolf Creek?_ It’s based on an Australian serial killer, _totally_ different.”

“Okay, first decision of the day is that Bright doesn’t get to pick the movie.” Gil stands up straight from his island bench stool and walks towards the center of the group, seeking and receiving nods in the affirmative from everyone but Malcolm.

“What?! This is my place, surely that counts for something?”

“It does,” JT replies, “It counted when we needed the biggest TV out of everyone. And yours is definitely the biggest.”

“Well, now I feel used. So, what do _you_ think we should watch?”

Edrisa pipes up first. “I’m happy to watch anything. Anything at all, just as long as there’s enough room on the couch for me and Bright.” Edrisa catches the uncomfortable looks from her colleagues and rushes to clarify, “I mean, we’re both small, so we don’t take up as much space as you long-limbed….people.”

JT answers her, “You can have the couch, I wouldn’t sit on that thing anyway. Have you seen all those studs? That is gonna be murder on my back.”

Dani butts in on the ergonomic conversation. “Guys. Movie. Are we gonna pick? Otherwise, we’ll be here all day.”

“Right, right. Hang on a sec,” JT crouches down to his backpack and pulls out a worn DVD cover. “I’m feeling like we could all use some Hans Gruber attacking Nakatomi Plaza.”

“Yes!”

“Oh, yeah!”

“I can get down with that.”

Dani, Gil, and Edrisa are all on board. Malcolm is the only one who stays silent. He studies the cover with interest.

“ _Die Hard._ What’s it about?”

The room falls silent as if someone has scratched the backing track. Malcolm doesn’t understand why everyone is staring at him, slack jawed.

“You’ve….. never seen _Die Hard?”_ JT asks.

“No, what’s it about?”

“It’s only the best Christmas movie, ever!” Edrisa exclaims. “A cop gets stuck in a building when it gets taken over by terrorists on Christmas Eve, and he has to save the day.”

“Wait, wait, wait. My totally amazing serial killer movie gets canned, but you’re all happy to watch a movie about a cop? How is that fair?!” Malcolm complains.

“One; it’s not a cop movie, it’s a Christmas movie. And two; unlike your suggestion, _Die Hard_ is awesome,” Dani answers. “C’mon, Bright, show me how this TV works, and we can get down to business.”

Malcolm looks over to Gil for some support. “C’mon, Gil.”

Gil folds his arms in solidarity, “Democracy rules, Bright. You’re gonna love it, I’m sure.”

Malcolm begrudgingly accepts the BluRay case from JT and sets up the movie.

******

They’re twenty minutes in when Gil feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. “Sorry guys, it’s a 10-10Y. We’re gonna have to cut this short. We’ve got reports of a body in West Village, off Bleecker Street. Need to check it out.”

“Hang on Gil, we can’t stop the movie here. Let’s just watch five more minutes. No, ten.”

Gil grins at Malcolm. “See, Bright? We told you it was worth watching. We can come back to this later. For now, duty calls. We can take the LeMans. Edrisa, how long before you and your team can meet us?”

“Given that it’s a weekend, I’d say about forty minutes. And don’t worry Bright, we’ve got plenty of time for yippee ki-yays. Did you know there’s five movies?”

JT shakes his head, “We are _not_ watching the whole series. Everybody loves an original, but _Die Hard 2_ makes you want to crash the damn plane yourself.”

Edrisa raises her eyebrows in response. “Oooookay, so, JT has strong feelings about ’80s movie franchises. Who knew? Anyone want a Dum•Dum for the road?” Edrisa holds the bag out, knowing there’ll be at least one taker. Malcolm doesn’t disappoint, his nimble fingers expertly rummaging through the flavors before finding a root beer. He pulls it out with a flourish and wastes no time heading towards the door.

“Okay, I’m all set. Let’s go look at a body!”

JT shakes his head. “Man, you gotta stop saying that. Between this and you not knowing what _Die Hard_ is, you’re coming across more like a suspect than a profiler.”

“Lucky I have you then, Jarrod Terrance.” Malcolm flashes a confident smile, the same one he flashes every time he tries to guess JT’s real name.

“Nope, no, nyet.”

“I’ll guess it one day, you know.”

JT lets loose a light chuckle. “Keep dreaming, Bright, ‘cos it’s not today.”

* * *

**CHAPTER NOTES / REFERENCES  
  
**

  * “It’s only the best Christmas movie, ever!”  
  
_There is an ongoing debate as to whether_ Die Hard _is a Christmas movie or not._ The Washington Post _says:_  
_"No matter where you fall in the debate, the statement from Twentieth Century Fox is unlikely to settle it._  
_The studio said this week that the Bruce Willis action flick_ “Die Hard," _which it distributed 30 years ago,_  
_is not just any Christmas story, but also 'the greatest Christmas story ever told.'" Dec 20, 2018_  
  
_But Bruce Willis says:_  
  
[Die Hard is Not a Christmas Movie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qPszgoWFFs4)  
  
  
  

  * “...we’ve got plenty of time for yippee ki-yays."  
  
_Bruce Willis says 'yippee ki-yay' in_ Die Hard. _Well, technically, he says 'yippee ki-yay, motherfucker,' but this is a PG-13-rated story_.  
  
[Die Hard "Yippee-Ki-Yay" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BSRrzrQtmto)  
  
  
  

  * “ _Die Hard 2_ makes you want to crash the damn plane yourself.”  
  
_There's a plane crash scene in_ Die Hard 2, _and also, while some people really liked the second one,_  
_it's definitely not as good as the first one, and the series just goes downhill from there._  
  
[Die Hard 2 (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0099423/)




	3. Bagels and Bacon

Gus had insisted they wake up early to go stand in line at the ticket kiosk in Times Square if they’re going to get any kind of decent seats on a Saturday night. He manages to drag himself out of bed at what feels like an ungodly hour, due to the time difference. A well-aimed slipper does the trick to get Shawn up, but he falls back asleep while Gus leaves the room to take a shower. Eventually, they are both showered and dressed. They leave the hotel, Gus heading north and Shawn heading south. Five steps in, and they realize the other isn’t following. They both stop and turn to face each other.

“Shawn, Times Square is to our north. North is this way,” Gus reasons, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Yes, Gus, but Davidovich Bakery is to our south. So we need to go this way,” Shawn says, using the same gesture in the opposite direction.

“What are you talking about, Shawn?”

“Davidovich. Davidovich. Davidovich. Isn’t that fun to say? Say it, Gus.”

“I don’t want to say it. We need to get those tickets. If we arrive too late, we’ll get terrible seats or none at all.”

“Oh come on, Gus, say it! Davidovich. It’s fun!”

Gus rolls his eyes and gives in, “Davidovich.” He gets a goofy smile on his face when he, too, thinks it’s a fun word to say.

“I told you so! Anyhoo, we’re not going to Davidovich Bakery, but we still have to go south.”

Gus narrows his eyes, suspiciously, “ _Now,_ what are you talking about?”

“We’re going here!” Shawn holds his phone out so Gus can see what’s on the screen.

“Brooklyn Bagel & Coffee Company?”

“Think about it, Gus. We’re not in Santa Barbara anymore. We’re on the East Coast. Not just the East Coast, but _New York City._ Do you know what that means?”

“That we’re in almost every movie, ever? That we never sleep? That we’re back in the groove? What does it mean, Shawn?”

“It means that they have _real_ bagels here. New York City bagels. The kind that everybody raves about. The kind we can’t get back home.”

Gus’s look of obstinance turns into one of intrigue. “New York City bagels? I hear that! But there are a million places to eat around here, Shawn. Probably a good majority of them that sell bagels and coffee. Why are you picking one that’s in the complete opposite direction of our destination?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Shawn spreads his pinched fingers apart on his phone screen to zoom in on some text and then shows it to Gus again.

“Does that say what I think it says, Shawn?”

Shawn smiles widely because he knows he’s won, “You bet it does!”

Gus starts stomping out a rhythm with his right foot while singing to the beat “Cool ranch… cool ranch… cool ranch… cream cheeeeeeese.” Shawn joins in with some wavy arm action, singing, “Oh yeah, oh yeah, we gonna get us some- cool ranch… cream cheese... bagels… in Neeeeew Yooooork Ciiiityyyy.”

Abruptly and simultaneously, they stop their dancing and head south.

******

“Those bagels were amazing! I’ve never tasted bagels like that before. How do they get that crust so…? and that inside so…? _Mmm_.”

“I told you,” says Shawn. “Totally worth it.”

“ _Totally._ We should grab a taxi from here so we can finally get to Times Square.”

“Taxi? Where’s the adventure in that? There’s plenty of time to take taxis and ride the subway. We can see so much more if we walk. Ya know? Really get a feel for what’s around here.”

“Walk? It will take us almost an hour to walk there, and we’re already late.”

“An hour? Perfect opportunity to see what there is to see. Think about it, Gus. It’s Saturday. Today is probably the hardest day to get good tickets, and the prices are going to be jacked up. We’re here all week, and we don’t have to work, so if we don’t end up getting tickets for tonight, we can just get better, cheaper tickets for another night.”

Gus has to concur that Shawn has a point.

“Besides,” says Shawn, holding up his phone once again, “there’s _this_ place. It’s only eight minutes from where we are now. Eight minutes is almost like one minute.”

Gus looks at the screen and sees ‘DŌ, Cookie Dough Confections.’ He gives a shoulder shrug. “Eight minutes is actually eight _times_ one minute, but when it comes to cookie dough, unlike the Phantom, time is just an illusion. Let’s go.”

They continue south and are both profoundly disappointed when the cookie dough place is not yet open. Gus scolds Shawn for the oversight, “I can’t believe you didn’t check the hours on that.”

“Just means we’ll have to come back later. That is if we aren’t already stuffed from eating Big Gay Ice Cream.”

“Big gay what, now?”

Shawn shows him the screen again. “We’ll pass it on the way, but it doesn’t open until 11.” This time, at least he checked the hours.

Gus squints into Shawn’s screen. “Big Gay Ice Cream Shop. Oh, we are definitely getting some of that. And a picture in front of the sign.”

******

The two end up walking through the West Village, continuing on their way to get tickets for Phantom, when Gus starts sniffing the air. Shawn notices. “Oh, I know that look. What is it, buddy? What do you smell?"

“I smell maple syrup and bacony goodness,” says Gus, “Whatever that is, it’s our breakfast.”

“Gus, we just had breakfast.”

“So? It’s our _second_ breakfast. You’re the one who’s making us walk all this way. We need our fuel.”

Shawn thinks that’s a pretty good argument, “I hear that.”

Shawn follows Gus and his ‘super sniffer’ to a street vendor on the next block, and the two are rewarded with an extra greasy and delicious breakfast they can eat on-the-go.

They are passing a side street on the way to the avenue that will take them to Times Square and just about to finish their meals when Gus almost trips and drops his last slice of bacon. “No!!” he shouts in dismay and starts to bend down.

“Gus, please don’t tell me you are about to pick that up and eat it."

Gus straightens up quickly, “Of _course_ not, Shawn. I’m heartbroken. I’m not _insane_." He does, however, look longingly down at the escaped bacon and from the corner of his eye, catches the familiar flapping of yellow tape with black writing.

“Hey, Shawn, wanna take a guess at what’s going on over there?"

Shawn looks to where Gus is pointing and sees the police tape. Curious, they both venture a little way down the side street until more comes into view, but they still keep their distance out of habit so as not to be seen. Shawn’s sharp eyes take note of the crumbling mural on the side of a brick building, the various technicians milling about, placing numbered markers on the ground, the heap of garbage still waiting for pickup, and a black muscle car, circa 1970, parked across the street, from which a group of people just stepped out and are walking swiftly towards the scene with purpose.

“Hey, check out that black car,” says Shawn, elbowing Gus for his attention. “That’s fresh to death!”

“Shawn, you are _not_ making a season 2 joke when the authors are already on season 6. What do you suppose this is about, anyway?”

“Well, how do you like them apples, I think we’re looking at a crime scene.” Shawn goes for a dramatic delivery.

Gus shakes his head, dismissing the idea. “Maybe they’re filming an episode of Law & Order,” he says, hopefully.

“There aren’t any cameras, Gus. Mariska Hargitay is nowhere to be found. This is a real crime scene.” Shawn gets that lopsided grin on his face that can only mean the wheels are turning in his head around a very bad idea.

Gus’s stomach does a flip. He knows he will have little chance of keeping Shawn away, and he has no interest in getting involved in anything to do with robberies or murders or heists while they’re on vacation. “We’re not here to solve a crime. We are here to take the Staten Island ferry and see Lady Liberty.”

“I promise you Lady Liberty isn’t going anywhere. Wait here while I go check this out.”

“I am not waiting here, Shawn. This is not Santa Barbara. And I am not waiting in some dirty back alley with needles scattered on the ground.” There aren’t any actual needles as far as Shawn can tell, but Gus vividly imagines them anyway.

“Come on, Gus. Don’t be Tom Petty. You know the waiting is the hardest part.”

“I am not being petty, Shawn. This is not Santa Barbara.”

“Then come with me, Gus. Just keep a low profile and don’t make any noise.”

From their closer vantage point, Shawn is now able to pick out some more details in addition to the blatantly obvious body laying on the ground about ten yards from the trash.

“Holy crap, Gus. This was a _murder_. That means those people over there are Major Case.”

“Major Case is Law & Order, Shawn. The _real_ unit is called Major Crimes.”

“Okay, Major Crimes. Gus, this is Major _Awesome!_ Can you believe our luck?” He slaps Gus excitedly with the back of his hand.

“Luck? Luck will be when we get the best seats in the house at a Broadway show, which we have no chance of now. This is not luck. This is a curse. I can’t believe you came all the way to New York City just to find a dead guy.”

“Oh Gus, don't be THAT dude with the $5,000 suit at a crime scene." Shawn points to a well-dressed young white man with gelled-back hair. What the man lacks in stature next to his colleagues, he appears to make up for in energy.

Gus does a double take, staring to make sure he’s correct. “THAT dude is a famous profiler, Shawn. He can kick your ass at crime-solving any day. And I’m pretty sure that’s a $10,000 suit.”

* * *

**CHAPTER NOTES / REFERENCES**   
  


  * Davidovich Bakery _(Shawn and Gus are talking about the Essex Street location.)_  
  
[Davidovich Bakery, NYC](https://www.davidovichnyc.com/wp/)  
  
  

  * “Davidovich. Davidovich. Davidovich. Isn’t that fun to say? Say it, Gus.”  
“I don’t want to say it.”  
“Oh come on, Gus, say it! Davidovich. It’s fun!”  
Gus rolls his eyes and gives in, “Davidovich.” He gets a goofy smile on his face when he, too, thinks it’s a fun word to say.  
  
 _Gus's 'fun word' smile looks a little like this:_  
  
[psych "Major General" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OnN0WE4msC4)

  * Brooklyn Bagel & Coffee Company _(Shawn and Gus visit the 8th Street location.)_  
  
 _Their tagline is "NYC's Best Bagel."  
_  
[Brooklyn Bagel & Coffee Company](https://bkbagel.com/)  
 _  
The store features some very interesting 'experimental' cream cheese spreads, including the cool ranch that Shawn and Gus are so excited about.  
_  
[ Where to Find the Best NYC Bagels](https://deedeesapartments.com/deedee-says/where-to-find-the-best-nyc-bagels/)  
  
 _  
  
_
  * DŌ, Cookie Dough Confections _(Shawn and Gus visit the LaGuardia Place location.)_  
  
[dō – Greenwich Village Flagship Store](https://www.cookiedonyc.com/pages/location-hours)  
  
  
  

  * Big Gay Ice Cream _(Shawn and Gus visit the Grove Street location which plays a Big Gay role in this story.)_  
  
[Big Gay Ice Cream Shop](https://www.biggayicecream.com/)  
  
  
  

  * “Hey, check out that black car. That’s fresh to death!”  
“Shawn, you are _not_ making a season 2 joke when the authors are already on season 6."  
  
 _In_ psych _Season 2, Episode 4: Zero to Murder in Sixty Seconds, Shawn has the Blueberry tricked out and refers to the new look as  
'fresh to death.' This story takes place somewhere around Season 6 when Shawn and Juliet are officially Shules, and Gus has not yet started dating anybody seriously._  
  
[The Blueberry 'Fresh to Death' image](https://ibb.co/vd5HwZX)  
  
[psych "Fresh to Death" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s8Jv4Wnpun8)  
  
  
  

  * “Well, how do you like them apples."  
  
[Good Will Hunting "How You Like Them Apples?" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gcZPWkNY6x8)  
  
  
  

  * "Mariska Hargitay is nowhere to be found."  
  
 _Mariska Hargitay plays the lead role of Detective Olivia Benson on_ Law & Order Special Victims Unit.



[Mariska Hargitay (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0002127/?ref_=fn_al_nm_1)  
  
  


  * “Come on, Gus. Don’t be Tom Petty. You know the waiting is the hardest part.”  
  
[The Waiting – Tom Petty And The Heartbreakers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMyCa35_mOg&ob=av2e)  
  
  
  

  * “Major Case is Law & Order, Shawn. The _real_ unit is called Major Crimes.”  
  
 _In_ Law & Order Criminal Intent _, they refer to the unit as Major Case.  
The _Prodigal Son _team works on the same types of cases, but they refer to the unit as Major Crimes.  
In actuality, both of these unit names are made up for TV._




	4. Dum•Dums

“Okay, so what have we got today?”

Gil and Malcolm look at the sight below them, a man in his late twenties has his head bludgeoned in an alley behind a hole-in-the-wall luncheonette. The head wound appears to be the only injury on the body. Malcolm remains focused on the victim while Gil looks around the location, using eyes well-trained to spot any cameras that may provide the team with clues to the murderer’s appearance.

It’s during this scan that a couple of people behind the cordon catch his eye. Two men in their early forties are arguing and gesticulating wildly in Gil’s direction. The African American man is dressed neatly, and his movements are small and controlled. He keeps glancing over at Malcolm, who at this moment is leaning down over the body. The Caucasian man looks like he’d be more comfortable watching a basketball game. His movements are loose, and he is using the whole length of his arms as they flail about wildly while he speaks. Neither is exhibiting the usual behavior of a curious bystander at a police cordon; they could be worth a look. Gil taps Malcolm’s shoulder and draws his attention to the odd couple.

“What kind of a read do you get on those two?”

Malcolm stands up and observes them for a moment. “I’m not sure, they definitely aren’t your run-of-the-mill tape huggers.”

Gil makes a mental note of the pair and turns his attention back to their victim.

******

“Famous profiler?” asks Shawn, “You know that guy?”

Gus is happy to deliver his knowledge. “That’s Malcolm Whitly. A.k.a. Malcolm Bright, a.k.a. the son of The Surgeon. The Surgeon is a famous serial killer. He killed 23 people, Shawn. _Twenty-three.”_

“How do you know these things, Gus?”

“His sister is a TV reporter. She did an exposé on her father - _The Surgeon_ \- not too long ago. I watched it. It was intense! Then I stayed up half the night reading everything I could find. Get this - Malcolm changed his name from Whitly to Bright so he wouldn’t be associated with his father, but after that exposé, everybody knows who he is. Shawn, I can’t believe we’re seeing the son of The Surgeon in person! _This_ is luck!”

The two watch the scene with growing interest.

“That dude doesn’t look like a cop. He’s awfully jittery,” says Shawn.

“He’s a _profiler_ , Shawn, not a cop. I did my research, _whaat._ And you’d be jittery, too, if _your_ father was a serial killer.”

“How do we know he’s not? Maybe my father _is_ a serial killer. Nobody can tell for sure. Come on Gus, let’s see if we can get a bit closer while they’re not looking.”

Before Gus can stop him, Shawn has lifted the bright yellow tape over his head and crouch-walks towards the body, stopping behind a dumpster as cover before peeking around the side.

Gus shakes his head and mutters to himself, “It’s okay, we’re okay, Shawn’s just entering an active crime scene. No biggie. We do this all the time.” He thinks over his options. He could run away, leaving Shawn on his own, or he could follow. As almost always, he chooses to follow his intractable friend. In a flash, the tape is over his shoulders, and he’s huddled next to Shawn against the absolute worst that New York has to offer. The maple bacon delights of this morning are now replaced with the odor of weekend partying and a bologna sandwich left in the communal fridge for too long.

Gus whispers to his partner, “This is so typical of you Shawn. I should be looking at orchestra seats for Phantom right now. If that wasn’t Malcolm Bright standing there, I would be seriously furious at your shenanigans, Shawn.”

“You say shenanigans, Gus. I say New York City adventure! This will be way better than watching some loner with a mask singing his ABC’s.” He peeks around the corner again and catches the attention of the older man.

“Oops, looks like we’ve been spotted. It’s game time, Gus!”

Shawn walks forward to make his presence known, and Gus follows, curious how this will go down. The older man, with his glorious head of hair, looks to Shawn like a better looking version of George Lopez. He is clearly the leader of the group. The man walks towards them with his hands in front of him gesturing for them to back up. “Hey fellows. This is an official crime scene. Please get back behind the tape.”

Shawn puts his fingers to the side of his head in his signature ‘I’m getting a psychic vision’ move and shouts loud enough for the others to hear, “That light! It’s so big! It’s hurting my eyes!”

The NYPD team stops what it’s doing and seems to notice the two for the first time. Along with George Lopez and Malcolm Bright, there’s a large, burly, brown-skinned man who looks to Shawn like nobody to mess with and a fit and beautiful, brown-skinned woman who Shawn is certain Gus is already eyeing up. Shawn screws up his eyes for full effect, “My eyes! It’s so bright! Bright! Bright!” Shawn drops his hand and resumes a normal talking voice, “Does the word ‘bright’ mean anything to anyone?”

Malcolm steps forward, removing a Dum•Dums lollipop from his mouth, “I’m Malcolm Bright, profiler for the NYPD. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

Shawn gives a dismissive and charming smile, “I was just being Whitly. I mean, witty.” Gus jabs Shawn in the side with his elbow.

“I am a psychic with the Santa Barbara Police Department,” he gestures to Gus beside him, “and this is my assistant, Burger Meister.”

Gus gives Shawn a quick side-eye and then smiles widely at Malcolm. “It’s Burton Guster, and it’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Bright.”

“Gus and I are… Well, technically, we’re on vacation, but we are 100% fully prepared to help you solve this crime.” Shawn gives him another winning smile.

Malcolm returns it with a tight smile and tilts his head, eyes narrowing, “Yeeeah, we’re not looking for outside help. But thanks for the offer?”

Shawn will not be deterred so easily. “Oh, I am sure that you can solve it all by yourselves, but not as quickly as if you had our help. Besides, Gus was just saying to me that he is certain my psychic skills can best your profiling skills any day. It was his idea for me to step into your turf. He double-dog dared me.”

“I did not say that, Shawn,” says a mortified Gus. Then he turns to Malcolm, “I did not say that.”

“Yeah, I’m sure your,” Malcolm gives air quotes, “’psychic’ skills are exceptional, but again, the answer is no.”

“Oh, come on,” presses Shawn, “You’re a profiler. I’m a psychic. We both solve crimes. We both have embarrassing fathers. We’re practically the same person! And hey- what’s with the air quotes?”

Gil is watching the exchange between Malcolm and these newcomers in disbelief. He’s seen a lot of things in his time, but coming across a fan of Malcolm’s, who’s not Edrisa, at a crime scene is definitely a first. Suddenly his cop brain kicks in, and he realizes he is allowing _members of the public_ into an active crime scene. He attempts to rectify the problem immediately.

“Alright, as ‘fun’ as this little chat has been, we need to get back to solving a homicide.” Gil raises his arms and starts guiding Shawn and Gus back towards the cordon. “The NYPD appreciates your offer, but we’ll take our chances without it.”

Thinking quickly, Shawn catches sight of a small patch of blood on the garbage bags and faint drag marks in the dust-covered paving. He raises his voice, effectively cutting off Gil’s dismissal. “I’m getting a vision!” Shawn says putting his hand to the side of his head again and squeezing his eyes shut.

Gil looks disgusted and starts walking forward, determined to get this idiot off of his crime scene. Shawn blurts out, “This man was killed by somebody who loves him." Malcolm stares at Shawn in astonishment and then turns to Gil, holding up a finger to stop him from saying whatever was going to come out of his mouth next. Shawn continues, pointing, “The man was killed over there by the stinky, trashy trash heap, but he was dragged away from the garbage and his body arranged in a way that is almost loving. Whoever killed this man felt remorse immediately after.”

Malcolm directs his voice to Gil while still staring at Shawn, “He’s not a psychic. But he’s not wrong.”

Gil addresses Malcolm, “Could a woman have killed him?”

“No,” say Shawn and Malcolm in unison.

Malcolm does a double take and then follows up with, “It’s unlikely that a woman would have had the strength to drag his dead body all the way over here.”

Shawn looks at the body and sees a patch of exposed chest which appears to have been waxed. “He was gay!” shouts Shawn, quickly raising his hand to his head to maintain his psychic connection. “I’m sensing his male lover killed him.” Shawn lowers his voice, conspiratorially, “They were lovers in the nighttime,” he tells Malcolm.

“That would make sense,” says Malcolm, ignoring the theatrics. “There’s a gay bar only a few blocks from here. Johnson’s. And there’s this.” Malcolm points to a club stamp barely visible from under the dead man’s wrist.

Shawn continues his thought process, “They were gay lovers. They were being gay at the gay bar. He was gay.”

“How many times are you going to say ‘gay,’ Shawn?” asks Gus.

“As many times as it takes to sing Bohemian Rhapsody using only the word ‘gay.’”

“That’s probably offensive, Shawn. A man is dead.”

Shawn ignores Gus and asks Malcolm, “Did you check for a wallet?”

“Of course we checked for a wallet,” answers Malcolm, irritated but also amused. “We assumed it was a robbery gone bad because the wallet is missing, but now I think it’s more likely that somebody took the wallet so that it would be harder to identify the body and give his killer more time to think up an alibi or get out of town. The stamp is probably from that club. We should start there and find out if anybody saw him last night or knows who he is.”

Shawn clamps his hands together and announces confidently, “We _should_ start there.”

“Not you two,” says Malcolm, “I was referring to my team.”

Shawn raises his hands in surrender, “Suit yourselves, fellow crime fighters.” He looks first to Gil and then to Malcolm, “Rossi. Horatio. But in case you change your mind…“ He reaches into his back pocket, coming up empty. “Shoot!” Still looking at the NYPD, he snaps his fingers to Gus at his side, “Gus. Business card, please."

Gus pulls out his wallet and hands a crisp business card to Malcolm. ”My personal number is on the back,“ he tells him. Malcolm takes the card politely, glancing down to see “pharmaceutical sales.”

“Just by-the-by,” says Shawn, “if you search the ground near those garbage bags, I don’t think it will take you long to find the _muuurder_ weapon.” He over-pronounces the word ‘murder’ as if he is on some old-time TV show. “Just look for the piece of brick with blood on it.”

Shawn turns away from the astonished NYPD, grabbing Gus’s arm and hauling him along to duck back underneath the yellow tape. They turn their backs on the crime scene and start whispering loudly to one another.

“Gus, are you thinking what I’m thinking?"

“I sincerely hope not."

“Gus, don’t be the chocolate chip ice cream container that hardly has any chips in it. We need to get to that bar and see what we can find out."

Gus starts to protest, but Shawn shushes him, eavesdropping on the NYPD for the little he can hear. He is able to gather that the medical examiner is stuck in traffic, that they will be bringing the body back to the morgue as soon as possible, and that the rest of the team will meet back there to start working on a plan of action.

Shawn is now super excited. “We need to go to that morgue and get a closer look at the body!”

“We’re not here to solve crimes, Shawn. We’re here to eat in five-star restaurants and visit the 9/11 Memorial.”

“And we shall, Gus. We shall even drink mai tais from gigantic glasses with little tiny umbrellas and slivers of pineapple. But first, we have a crime to solve!”

* * *

**CHAPTER NOTES / REFERENCES  
  
**

  * Gil taps Malcolm’s shoulder and draws his attention to the odd couple.  
  
_I mean, technically, this could be referring to the TV show,_ The Odd Couple _, even if it wasn't meant that way when written.  
  
_[The Odd Couple (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0065329/)  
  
  
  

  * [Gus] thinks over his options. He could run away, leaving Shawn on his own, or he could follow.  
  
_This is closest thing we have to the_ psych _trope of 'Gus running away, screaming.'_  
  
  
  

  * The older man, with his glorious head of hair, looks to Shawn like a better looking version of George Lopez.  
  
[George Lopez (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0310460/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0)  
  
  
  

  * “They were lovers in the nighttime.”  
  
[psych "Lovers in the Nighttime" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_iZ8tGlP0_Y)  
  
  
  

  * “As many times as it takes to sing Bohemian Rhapsody using only the word ‘gay.’”  
  
_The song is 5:55 minutes long. That's a lot of 'gay.'_  
  
[Bohemian Rhapsody – Queen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wBqMbefDgys)  
  
  
  

  * “Suit yourselves, fellow crime fighters.” He looks first to Gil and then to Malcolm, “Rossi. Horatio."  
  
_David Rossi (played by Joe Mantegna) is a Senior Supervisory Special Agent on the TV show_ Criminal Minds.  
  
[David Rossi (Criminal Minds wiki)](https://criminalminds.fandom.com/wiki/David_Rossi)  
__  
__  
_Horatio Caine (played by David Caruso) is a Lieutenant on the TV show_ CSI: Miami.  
  
[Horatio Caine (CSI: wiki)](https://csi.fandom.com/wiki/Horatio_Caine)  
  
  
  

  * “I don’t think it will take you long to find the _muuurder_ weapon.” He over-pronounces the word ‘murder’ as if he is on some old-time TV show.  
  
_It's a little like this, but Shawn instead of Gus:_  
  
[psych "Murder is Also Murder" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9u2dyTQCFhE)  
  
  
  

  * "We shall even drink mai tais from gigantic glasses with little tiny umbrellas and slivers of pineapple."  
  
_**Spot the Pineapple!** The mai tai drink itself generally does not have pineapple in it,_  
_but it would be fun to have a recipe for the drink anyway, wouldn't it?_  
  
[Mai Tai Recipe (Epicurious)](https://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/mai-tai-230577)




	5. Tacos

Back at the precinct, JT pins the last photo to the case board as Malcolm paces the length of the conference room.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say that we won’t be here very long today. We can be back at Nakatomi Plaza before dinner.”

“And why is that?” Gil asks, “Usually we can’t tear you away from a case.”

“This one is gonna be pretty simple,” Malcolm replies. “The evidence is clearly pointing to an unplanned crime. Unplanned crimes are usually messy and leave huge amounts of evidence, which means there’s not a _huge_ need for me on a case like this.”

“Wait, how about looking at this from all the angles? It’s too soon to rule anything out,” Dani counters.

Gil folds his arms at the fidgety profiler. “Dani’s right, we owe it to the victim to look at all the options before jumping to the most convenient one. Even if you’ve got a movie to get back to.”

“I know, I know, ‘police work is patience.’”

Gil glances at the clock on the wall. “Edrisa should be getting back now, let’s give her a bit of time to see if she can learn anything from the vic. In the meantime, why don’t we have JT and Dani give us a rundown of the canvassing they did at the scene.”

******

As Shawn and Gus leave the crime scene, Gus has been scrolling through his phone in frustration. “How the hell are we going to figure out which morgue to go to?" he says to Shawn. “Apparently, Manhattan has multiple pages of just about any listing of anything.”

“It’s the 16th, Gus."

“And how the hell do you know that?"

“Easy. One of the officers had a pin on her collar."

Gus ‘hmphs’ and gets to work looking up directions to the 16th precinct. ”Well, would you look at that. Seems we just continue on our original route to get there. May as well walk, seeing as how the body is not even there yet and all.” They continue on their original way, this time at a much more leisurely pace.

“You don’t think they’re just going to let us into a police morgue on an open investigation, Shawn? We need to come up with a plan."

“Relax, Gus. Don’t be Meat Loaf on a hot summer night. Of course I have a plan.”

“Well, let’s hear it."

“How about I just surprise you."

“You don’t have a plan, do you? I knew it."

“Not right this second. But I’ll come up with something. I always do."

Just then, they pass a store that gives Shawn an idea. He ushers Gus inside, and when they emerge five minutes later, he’s holding a bag. It’s a flimsy plan, but better than nothing. They continue on their walk.

“So…I guess we’re going to meet their Medical Examiner. Do you think he’s going to be anything like Woody?" asks Shawn.

“I can’t imagine anybody who’s _not_ like Woody wanting to be an ME.” Gus grimaces, thinking of what that job entails.

“Maybe Woody has a twin brother."

“Separated at birth?”

“Or a distant cousin.”

“Or…an illegitimate child!”

They’re almost to their destination when Gus’s super sniffer starts twitching again.

“What now?" asks Shawn.

“Tacos."

“Street Vendor Tacos? Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I sincerely hope it has something to do with us getting tacos.”

“Of course, we’re going to get tacos,” says Shawn, “but we are also going to get some for our Twin Woody friend. Can’t hurt to bring a gift someplace that we weren’t invited, right? And don’t _all_ MEs like to eat while they’re working?”

“That’s a great idea,” agrees Gus. “What kind of a person would turn down tacos?”

******

“That looks like the place.” Gus points to a large, square building with several floors and an attached parking garage. “Did I mention that we’re not in Santa Barbara anymore?” Their own police station back home is quaint compared to this.

“Now, we just have to find a way in without alerting anyone,” says Shawn, mouth full with his last bite of taco.

“Perimeter walk?”

“Perimeter walk. But from across the street.”

Nonchalantly, they walk up the block across the street from the precinct building, eyeing it carefully, Gus holding the bag with their plan and the extra tacos. Where the building stops at the corner, they turn and walk up that street, also. Shawn stops Gus with a hand to his shoulder. “There!” He points to an unmarked side entrance where some uniformed officers are hanging around smoking cigarettes. “Give me the stuff in the bag.”

Gus reaches into the bag and hands something to Shawn.

“Not the tacos!”

Gus puts the tacos back in the bag and hands Shawn the rest of the contents. “You really think we’re going to fool somebody with a clipboard and a manila envelope?”

Shawn takes a moment to carefully write something on the envelope with the Sharpie® they had also purchased. “Not just a manila envelope, Gus. A manila envelope with big, black writing across the front that says ‘Morgue, 16th precinct.’ Why else would we be carrying such an envelope if we didn’t have something important to deliver to the morgue at the 16th precinct?”

They make their way across the street, blending into the crowd, and keeping their eyes surreptitiously on the side door. When the last of the officers stubs out their cigarette and re-enters the building, Shawn makes his move, hoping swiftly forward and grabbing the door just before it can slam shut. They wait till the officers disappear from view and then head inside, walking confidently down the hall as if they belong.

They pass several closed doors, and then Shawn ducks into an open office with the light on and nobody inside. Gus reluctantly follows. “What are you doing, Shawn? This isn’t the morgue.”

“No duh. We’re in the building. We may as well snoop a little. Seems like a small office for HR.”

“How do you know it’s HR?” asks Gus.

Shawn points to the name plaque on the desk: ‘Mimi Milton, Dir. H.R.’ He looks around the room, taking in various bits of information with his photographic memory. There are a few protocol memos sitting on the desk and an inbox full of resumes – it looks like they’re hiring for a couple of clerical positions. Shawn lifts one up to show Gus, “Hey, look. You can get a job!”

“I have a job, Shawn.”

The computer screen holds the most interest. Shawn scrolls through a list of employee names, including ‘Malcolm Bright,’ and the department and salary levels assigned to each. Other than that, Mimi Milton doesn’t seem to be a very interesting person. There’s a mug with a company logo and a lipstick mark, a couple of award tchotchkes sitting on the shelving unit, and one framed photograph of her with her two daughters. She's sporting the same garish shade of lipstick that’s on the mug; no husband in the picture. Shawn assumes she is divorced and has custody of the children. He notes that Mimi looks an awful lot like Chief Vick back in Santa Barbara.

Shawn walks over to the filing cabinet and opens a drawer, thumbing through the tabs and pulling out some files, hoping to find something interesting. Just then, they both hear the click of high heels coming down the hallway.

“Crap. Distract her for me, Gus. I have to get these files back. I only need like a minute.”

“No problem. Jamaica Mon get yuh back.” Gus puts on a big, friendly smile and his best Jamaican accent.

Shawn gives him a fist bump, “That’s my mon.”

Gus walks out of the office, not at all worried if the woman sees him. After all, he was looking for her.

“Gud afftanoon, Ms. Mimi. How yuh stay? You get mi resume, Ms. Mimi? I come make sure you get mi resume. Mi name Aduke. You get it?”

‘Ms. Mimi’ appears flustered, obviously not used to having candidates show up at her office. She tries, politely, to send him on his way, but he doesn’t seem to be listening.

Meanwhile, Shawn gets the files back in place and peaks around the door to make sure the woman is sufficiently distracted before he steps out of the office. He comes bounding up to the two of them, clipboard in one hand and manila envelope in the other, held out so she can see the writing.

“Excuse me, Ma’am. You look like you work here. Would you please point me in the direction of the morgue?" He gives the envelope a gentle shake for emphasis.

The H.R. Director gives Shawn quick directions, using the opportunity to back herself into her office and away from the pushy Jamaican.

Gus calls after her, “Mi call you later! Rispeck!”

She nods and smiles and quickly shuts her office door.

Shawn grins. “See, Gus? Clipboard and manilla envelope. I told you.”

They make their way down the hallway, following the directions to the morgue.

******

Edrisa hums a tune as she considers her latest patient, a man with no identity yet and a giant dent in his skull. “Okay John, we’ve got your DNA collected and fingerprints running in the system, so now it’s just you and me. What else can you tell me about yourself?” First, she checks his pockets but comes up empty. Then she starts photographing and cataloging his clothing and personal effects _in situ,_ and readying the paperwork before she starts her physical examination of the body. Nobody should spend their last moments on earth next to a dumpster.

Paperwork started, she begins to remove the victim’s jewelry and clothing for the autopsy when the outer door to the morgue clangs open, and two unfamiliar male voices boom in the body room.

“Look Gus, freezer doors! This is it! Do you reckon they’re all full?”

“Get your hand off that door, Shawn. Do you want to see the taco I just ate?”

“What do you think is gonna be sitting on the slab in there? It’s not cake!”

Gus’s stomach turns, “Don’t say ‘cake,’ Shawn. Can you look through the window and tell me if the body’s in there?”

“Uh, you know I can hear you, right?” Edrisa calls.

There’s silence for a moment, then the door to the autopsy room bursts open, and a man in jeans and an untucked plaid button-down walks in with a clipboard and a smile.

“Woodette! How are you? My name is Shawn Spencer and I’m here with my colleague, Dolla’ Bill. We’re part of a pen pal exchange with the 16th precinct, and we tagged along to your murder earlier today.” The man glances at the victim on the table before shouting back to his friend, “HE’S HERE, AND HE’S STILL DRESSED.”

Edrisa squints as a second man edges slowly into the room, looking intently at the walls while occasionally glancing at the victim. Once he has verified his friend’s statement, the man relaxes and joins his companion.

“A pen pal exchange. Huh. I must have missed the memo, that would have been so cool to sign up for! Which PD do you work with? And why did you bother to come to the morgue? It’s not exactly on the top ten list of places to visit in the 16th Precinct.”

“We figured that you could use my unique talents on the case, I’m a psychic, you see.”

“And you can call me Gus.”

“Pleased to meet you, Shawn, Gus.” Edrisa’s eyebrows raise a little higher, “A psychic? Now I’ve seen everything.” She looks a little closer at Gus. “Wait, aren’t you ‘Bud’ from _The Cosby Show?”_

Gus chuckles. He can hardly be angry at this woman for the familiar mistake. “No, I’m not. But I get that a lot.”

She nods, not looking entirely convinced. ”I’ve only just started the exam, you’re welcome to wait with Lieutenant Arroyo until I have a little more done. Oh, I’m Edrisa, by the way.” She would offer her hand, but she’s already wearing exam gloves.

Gus is quick to turn down the offer, “That’s okay, Edrisa, we’ll just wait here. Hey, we brought you tacos, if you’re hungry.” The movement of the paper bag towards her wafts the smell of pork and salsa.

“Ooh, is that from around the corner? I love their soft shell tacos! Can you put them in my office, please? Between these tacos from our penpals and the Dum•Dums from our profiler, I’ve got it made today for both lunch and dessert!”

Shawn tips his head in Edrisa’s direction. “Check it out, Gus. She’s like a female Woody. Only much shorter, much cuter, and much more Asian.”

“Well I don’t know what a ‘Woody’ is, but if you want to stick around, you can sit in the gallery while I continue with the exam.” Edrisa motions to the row of chairs on the riser behind Shawn.

“Thank you, Edrisa.” Shawn starts to move around in the room, not towards the chairs though. This morgue is where the current action is, and he needs to soak up the atmosphere.

Edrisa turns her attention back to her anonymous victim but wants to be polite to the precinct’s pen pals. “So, you mentioned that you were at the crime scene this morning, did you meet the whole team?”

Shawn answers, “We were introduced to the Lieutenant and Malcolm Bright.”

Edrisa smiles. “You met Bright? Isn’t he wonderful?”

“His career is impressive, for sure.” Gus replies.

“Absolutely. His profiles are uncannily accurate. And he is so thoughtful………” Edrisa gets a far off look in her eye and forgets to finish her thought.

“I love reading the early work he did for the FBI on _Justice Quest._ The Krebler Brothers? Amazing,” Gus gushes.

“Oh, I love _Justice Quest!”_ Edrisa exclaims. “Not as much as _WebSleuths,_ but they do seem to get their hands on some juicy tidbits every now and then.”

“And the profile page of Malcolm is curated far better on _Justice Quest._ And have you seen his suits? The guy is a model!”

“Oh, yes. He has this blue shirt and red tie combination that is-“

“My hair is better, though, right?” Shawn interrupts, waving his hand around his head in the process. “I mean look at this volume I have going on. Malcolm‘s hair is so flat. It’s kind of limp. One might even call it… _flaccid_."

Gus admonishes him, “Stop it, Shawn. Malcolm’s hair is lovely.”

Edrisa dreamily agrees, “Malcolm’s hair _is_ lovely.” Then she sees the look on Shawn’s face and quickly adds, “Oh, but your hair is nice, too!”

Shawn crosses his arms and frowns at her, “You look like a _Star Wars_ prequels fan. What would _you_ know?”

Edrisa looks horrified, “No! I don’t like _Star Wars_ prequels.”

Gus looks pleased. “She’s not _crazy,_ Shawn.”

Mildly satisfied with her response, Shawn wanders towards a tray of shiny metal implements. “These look like fun!” he shouts, though he’s actually frowning in distaste at all of those pointy objects. “Woody doesn’t usually leave his tools out like this, what are they all for?”

Edrisa walks over to the tray and points them out one by one. “This is a bone saw, these are forceps, and this t-shaped contraption is a skull key,” Edrisa explains, “which you use with the skull chisel over here.”

“Oof! Sounds like a prop from the next _Raiders_ movie. Tell me, do you eat a lot of walnuts in here, Edrisa?” Shawn asks.

“No, why would you say that?”

“Because that is one serious nutcracker.” Shawn is pointing to a long-handled tool with one blade curved into a half circle and the other dead straight.

“That’s for cracking ribs. If you want a food theme it’s more for barbecues than bar snacks.” Edrisa grins, enjoying the food-based puns.

Gus’s ears perk up, “Now I’m hungry for barbecue.”

Shawn gives him a disgusted look, “Really, Gus?"

He walks away from the tools and continues his wander around the morgue, casually examining the body while Edrisa looks for the paperwork she laid down somewhere while she was chatting. Shawn’s eyes rove over the victim, looking for any clues to the life he led before he died, and the gleam of a ring catches Shawn’s attention. The unique piece on the ring finger is silver with a round, black stone set off-center, partnered with a small diamond, as if in orbit to the larger stone. There’s a shallow dip in the silver band next to the black stone, hinting at the possibility of a partner piece. Shawn’s line of vision travels upward and lands on a strand of hair resting on the victim’s jacket, barely visible against the dark material. There’s a simple silver chain around the dead man’s neck, partially visible before it disappears under his shirt. Thick enough to make a statement, but not to the point of being gaudy. Shawn circles around, and notices a tiny rip in the seam running down the side of the jacket. These are clues worth filing away. He turns his attention from the body as Edrisa looks like she’s ready to get to work again.

Clipboard in hand, Edrisa jots down some additional notes, mumbling to herself as she goes. Gus sneaks a peek and smiles to himself before interrupting Edrisa’s groove. “You know, I have to say, Edrisa, your handwriting is exquisite. Excellent line quality, and the symmetry between the stroke of your t’s and the undercurve of your capital N’s is a thing of beauty.”

Edrisa blushes. “Why, thank you, Gus! I am known in pathology circles for my very readable reports.”

“You know, Gus, it’s not nice to talk about somebody's undercurve when there’s a stiff on the table,” Shawn declares, slightly miffed at Gus hitting it off with the quirky ME.

The trio are interrupted by the hallway door opening. They’ve got company.

Shawn quickly steps in, “Ah, okay Edrisa, if that’s the boss man, let me handle this. The guy loves me.”

“Wait, what do you need to ‘handle’?” Edrisa asks.

There’s no time to explain as the morgue door opens and Gil’s relaxed face turns to one of confusion. “What on earth are you two doing here? How did you get in?” Gil shouts.

Shawn claps his hands together and points them at the fuming Lieutenant Arroyo.

“Greetings again, Lieutenant. You’d be surprised how far you can get in life with a clipboard and a Jamaican job applicant. We’re here to help with the case!”

“I told you, we don’t need your help. You are on vacation, not a work exchange,” Gil replies testily.

“Wait a minute, they said they were here for a pen-pal program?” Edrisa queries.

Shawn shushes her with a snap of his hand. “No need to get bogged down in semantics. Seeing as we’re all here…everybody's working for the weekend, but this guy,” he points in earnest to the dead body, “ _doesn't_ get a second chance. Let’s do this man justice! Let’s find his killer! Together!”

“While you two sort this out I’m going to check on my fingerprint search.” Edrisa backs away slowly to the office behind them. Malcolm, Dani, and JT follow Gil to the slab with their victim on it while they wait for Edrisa’s return.

“Aren’t these the guys from the murder scene today?” JT asks.

Malcolm nods, “This is Shawn Spencer, the so-called psychic and-”

Shawn cuts in, shaking his head and waving his hand in dismissal, “Shawn Spencer, _actual_ psychic detective and my associate, the indomitable Walk-DMC.”

Gus smiles apologetically at JT, “Burton Guster. You can call me Gus.”

“You mock my psychic ability, Malcolm Bright, but I have brought criminal after criminal to justice through my powerful connection to the spiritual auras all around us.”

JT looks amused, “Psychic detective? Like..the Mentalist?”

Shawn is thrilled, “JUST like the Mentalist. Only that guy’s a fake.”

JT raises his brows, “So... _just_ like the Mentalist,” he confirms.

Malcolm asks, “Who’s the Mentalist?”

Shawn gasps, “Who’s the- _What?”_ He turns towards Gus while pointing to Malcolm, “Who _is_ this guy?” and mumbles under his breath, “Doesn’t know who the Mentalist is…”

“Gil, I think it’s safe to say we don’t need anyone from the peanut gallery around here. Bright’s enough for now,” JT jokes.

“Hey, if we’re any type of nuts, it won’t be peanuts. We’re macadamias; smooth, creamy and expensive,” Gus points out. “And you are?”

Malcolm continues the introductions. “This is detectives JT Tarmel and Dani Powell.”

Gus nods to each of them in turn, taking a moment to eye Dani appreciatively, which doesn’t escape Shawn’s attention.

“JT, what does that stand for? Juan Tutuola?” Shawn guesses.

Malcolm laughs, “That’s the $64,000 question. I’ve already guessed ‘Juan’. The truth remains a mystery…..”

“A mystery to you, bro. Not everyone.” JT smirks and says to Shawn, “And no, I am not related to Ice-T.”

Edrisa walks back in with a printout and a smile. “Our vic has a name! This is Clay Wheeler, 28, an English teacher from Hackensack. His prints came up through the school registry system.”

“Hackensack?” Shawn shakes his head, mournfully. “Guess this poor fella won’t be moving up _or_ moving out.”

Gus winces. “English teacher? That’s a damn shame.”

At Edrisa’s news, the group focuses back on their victim. A teacher, probably out for a night of fun, who’s life was ended through no fault of his own. Gil steers the conversation back to work, ignoring, for the moment, their two interlopers.

“Okay Edrisa, what can you tell us so far about Mr. Wheeler?”

“Well, not much to tell. He has no record to speak of. He’s been at that same school for 7 years-”

“Aaaggghhh,” Shawn interrupts, sounding like he’s in pain. He squeezes his eyes shut and brings his fingers to the side of his head, wiggling them slightly. All eyes turn to him with varying degrees of annoyance. Gus looks towards Shawn, waiting to see what he’ll come up with but gives away nothing with his reaction. “I’m getting something!” Shawn shouts.

Malcolm rolls his eyes, Gil narrows his eyes, Edrisa widens hers. Dani and JT exchange confused looks. “The situation is a little hairy,” Shawn continues. “Like Bon Jovi in 1984. Only not _that_ hairy." Eyes still closed, he puts his hands out in front of him, palms down, and ambles stiffly over to the slab until his thigh bumps against the metal. Edrisa jumps a little, fearful he might disturb her work. He slowly orients himself to face the table, palms now hovering a foot over the dead body, and he hums in concentration. His eyes pop open for just a moment to look pointedly down at the slab. Then he closes them again and slowly moves his palms in their hover position until he calculates he’s just above the dead man’s left shoulder. “Edrisa, I’m getting something right around this area.” He moves his palms in a circle in the air to emphasize. “What do you see when you look close? Is there anything there?”

Edrisa grabs her magnifying glass and steps up next to him, leaning over the victim to look, “Wow! How did you do that?” She takes a pair of tweezers and plucks a short hair off of the dead man’s shirt, holding it up to the light. “It’s gray and it doesn’t match his hair, so we’re probably looking at an older man, but we’ll know more once the hair is analyzed.” She places the gray hair in a plastic bag and labels the bag.

Shawn smirks in Malcolm’s direction. “Na na na-na na na,” he teases, and then continues with the same gibberish but in the form of a tune, “Na na na-na na na.”

“Is that Journey?” asks Edrisa.

He stops abruptly, putting his hand back to his head. “I’m getting something else!” This time, both Malcolm and Gil roll their eyes and sigh. Edrisa eagerly waits for him to continue. Dani and JT look amused. Shawn clutches at his side, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling the material out from his body. “It’s tearing me apart!”

“What is it?” asks Edrisa, both concerned and excited.

“I’m not sure,” says Shawn. He makes a show of watching his hand tug at his shirt. “I think it has something to do with his clothing. Check his clothing, particularly his shirt and his jacket.”

Edrisa carefully looks over the victim’s clothing while the skeptical onlookers hold their breath. “Oh my god! There’s a tiny tear in the seam,” she confirms. She looks at Shawn with something like awe, “You’re good,” she says.

Shawn preens. Now, it’s Gus’s turn to roll his eyes.

Gil remarks, “Edrisa, I have faith that you would have found all of that on your own.”

“Of course, sir,” says Edrisa, “but not nearly as quickly as with the psychic visions. With Shawn’s help, I was able to hone in on these clues right away.”

Malcolm gives Gil a shrug and a half smile, “He’s not psychic, but he’s not bad at what he does.”

Gil turns to Gus and quietly asks him, “Which Police Department are you guys from, again?”

“Santa Barbara.”

“Thank you,” says Gil, and exits the exam room, disappearing into Edrisa’s office with his cell phone. A quick search for the Santa Barbara Police Department reveals a contact number for the station chief, and he connects the call. Instead of the female voice he expects, a crisp male voice answers the phone.

“Lassiter.”

“Uh, hi. This is Lieutenant Gil Arroyo, New York PD, 16th Precinct. I was hoping to talk with the Santa Barbara Chief of Police about two of her associates that have paid us a visit.”

“NYPD! Well, Lieutenant Arroyo, you’re speaking with Head Detective Carlton Lassiter. The Chief is out of the office until next week, but we’re always happy to help fellow law enforcement. Wait,” Lassiter pauses, “when you say ‘associates,’ you’re not talking about Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster, are you? Irritating white guy who won’t shut up about his hair and his impeccably-dressed, black sidekick?”

Gil chuckles, “How did you know?”

There’s a huff on the other end of the line as Lassiter sighs. “Why am I not even surprised,” he says, mostly to himself. And then, “It seems those two manage to worm their way into trouble in any city, not just Santa Barbara.”

“So, you can confirm that the pair do, in fact, work with the Santa Barbara PD?” Gil asks.

“’Work with’ is being a bit generous, I’d go more with ‘barging in when they’re not asked’ most of the time,” Lassiter deadpans.

Gil finds himself staring at the duo through the glass as he replies, “Yeah, that sounds about right. Do they prove useful for your cases? Are they harmless?”

“Look, they’re complete idiots, okay. But, between you and me, they do manage to be useful most of the time. You didn’t hear that from me, though. As for ‘harmless,’ I guess that depends on your definition. They can’t do much harm, physically, I can tell you that. But imagine sending two chimpanzees to help you with your job, and you’ll get the picture. Mostly, they’re a danger to themselves.”

“That last part sounds like someone else I know,” Gil mumbles, eyeing Malcolm through the window. “Thanks very much for your time, Detective.”

“Good luck, Lieutenant. You’re going to need it.” Gil can hear the detective laughing on the other end of the line as he hangs up the phone.

Back in the exam room, Malcolm is embellishing Edrisa’s scant profile when, suddenly a growl erupts from JT’s stomach, loud enough to derail Malcolm’s train of thought.

“ _What_ was _that?!”_ Shawn exclaims.

“I skipped lunch, okay, distracted by the job and all,” JT answers.

“You certainly run a different type of ship here in New York,” says Gus as he bumps Shawn’s shoulder. “Stomachs aren’t supposed to make that sound, you know.”

“We make sure of that, don’t we?” Shawn raises his hand and Gus meets the fist bump with perfect timing.

Edrisa beams at the team. “It’s your lucky day, JT! Our new friends here brought me some tacos, you’re more than welcome to one.” Edrisa points to the office behind her where Gil is slowly pacing as he talks on his cell phone.

JT considers the offer. “I’m not sure I’ve had morgue tacos before, hit me up!”

Malcolm wrinkles his nose at the thought. “I don’t get what the fuss is with tacos. It’s the first food type designed to fall apart the second you bite into it.”

Dual gasps from Shawn and Gus cause all heads to turn in their direction.

“Tacos are one of God’s greatest gifts!” Shawn cries.

A puzzled Gus turns to Shawn and whispers, “What kind of person turns down tacos?!”

“The kind who survives on twizzlers and misery,” JT replies.

“Very funny, JT. Good luck with your formaldehyde tacos,” Malcolm retorts.

“Aaand, I think that’s a wrap,” Gil interjects. “We have an ID and a family to notify. And you two,” he points at Shawn and Gus, “have a vacation to get back to.”

“Gil, please, let us help on the case. Chief Vick vouched for us, right?” Shawn pleads.

Gil lets him down gently, “Someone in the department vouched for you, yeah. But a team of visiting consultants on a case is a liability that the precinct can’t afford right now.”

“Can’t we at least get visitors’ passes?” Shawn tries again.

“I’m sorry, no.”

“Even if the passes have our names written out as musical notations instead of letters?”

Gil shakes his head in exasperation. “No passes! Dani will see you out of the building, Go and enjoy the city’s other sights. Ones that don’t involve body freezers.”

“I guess we'll have to find another way for the city to remember my name,” says Shawn, already plotting a way around this impediment, “but mark my words, you ain’t seen the best of me yet.”

* * *

**CHAPTER NOTES / REFERENCES  
  
**

  * “Don’t be Meat Loaf on a hot summer night."  
  
[You Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth (Hot Summer Night) - Meat Loaf](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_wO8toxinoc)  
  
  
  

  * ‘Mimi Milton, Dir. H.R.’  
  
 _The human resources director is named after a combination of Mimi Bobeck from_ The Drew Carey Show and _Milton,  
the unforgettable man with the red stapler in the movie _Office Space _(a movie that_ psych _used as one of their episode inspirations).  
_  
[Mimi Bobeck (The Drew Carey Show, IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0111945/characters/nm0455745?ref_=tt_cl_t3)  
  
[Milton (Office Space, IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0151804/characters/nm0740535?ref_=tt_cl_t6)  
  
  

  * “Wait, aren’t you ‘Bud’ from _The Cosby Show?”_

_Somebody actually did a comparison photo of the two._  
  
[Didn't You Play Bud on the Cosby Show?](https://imgur.com/gallery/Aqcdh/comment/19179114)  
  
  
  

  * “Oh, I love _Justice Quest!”_ Edrisa exclaims. “Not as much as _WebSleuths."_  
  
 _Both_ Justice Quest _and_ WebSleuths _are fictional 'true crime boards' mentioned in_ Prodigal Son _Season 1, Episode 12: Internal Affairs._  
  
  

  * “You look like a _Star Wars_ prequels fan. What would _you_ know?”  
  
 _I think we all know the debate going on here._  
 _If you haven't yet seen Red Letter Media's scathing interpretation of why the Star Wars prequels suck so badly,_  
 _take a look at this video series._

[Star Wars: The Phantom Menace Review (Part 1 of 7) – Red Letter Media](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FxKtZmQgxrI)  
  
  
  

  * “Oof! Sounds like a prop from the next _Raiders_ movie."  
  
Raiders of the Lost Ark, _of course. Shawn is most likely thinking about this scene from the second movie in the series._  
  
[Temple of Doom "Chilled Monkey Brains" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vNZ63iwnn5M)  
  
  
  

  * The gleam of a ring catches Shawn’s attention.  
  
 _Here is the beautiful piece of jewelry referred to. The victim is wearing the silver half of the ring._  
  
[The Victim's Ring](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/726664842450174033/746145265735565422/2-tone-band-5-600x338-1-o7ptci83w5kdktwq4qxg1ds4ae6p7c9mxsefslmbgo.png)  
  
  

  * "Excellent line quality, and the symmetry between the stroke of your t’s and the undercurve of your capital N’s is a thing of beauty.”  
  
[Glossary of Handwriting Terms](http://samresources.scholastic.com/ResourceManager/previewresource.spr?_page=0&objectId=7490)




  * "…everybody's working for the weekend, but this guy _doesn't_ get a second chance."  
  
[Working for the Weekend - Loverboy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dsgBpsNPQ50)  
  
  
  

  * "...my associate, the indomitable Walk-DMC.”  
  
 _Who doesn't know Run-DMC? Extra fun: His single, "Christmas in Hollis," was used in_ Die Hard.  
  
[Run-DMC (IMBb)](https://www.imdb.com/name/nm1505820/)  
  
  

  * "JUST like the Mentalist. Only that guy’s a fake.”  
  
 _One of Shawn's favorite shows, and the lead, played by Simon Baker (whom Shawn can attest has really nice hair), is one of Shawn's man crushes._  
 _Premise: "A famous 'psychic' outs himself as a fake, and starts working as a consultant for the California Bureau of Investigation."_  
  
[The Mentalist (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1196946/)  
  
[Simon Baker and his Fabulous Hair](https://ibb.co/TY656kH)  
  
  


  * “JT, what does that stand for? Juan Tutuola?”   
“And no, I am not related to Ice-T.”  
  
 _Ice-T plays Detective Odafin Tutuola (Fin) in_ Law & Order Special Victims Unit.  
  
[Ice-T (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001384/?ref_=fn_al_nm_1)  
  
  
  

  * “That’s the $64,000 question."  
  
 _The $64,000 Question is an American game show from the '50s.  
_  
[The $64,000 Question](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjQdaSkZm-I)  
  
  
  

  * “Our vic has a name! This is Clay Wheeler.”  
  
 _Clay Wheeler is the name of the first character to die in_ Die Hard 4: Live Free or Die Hard.  
  
[Deaths on the Die Hard Movies (Die Hard wiki)](https://diehard.fandom.com/wiki/Deaths_on_the_Die_Hard_movies)  
  
  

  * “Hackensack? Guess this poor fella won’t be moving up _or_ moving out.”

[Movin' Out (Anthony's Song) – Billy Joel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dl4szA2HDK0)  
  
  
  

  * “The situation is a little hairy, like Bon Jovi in 1984. Only not _that_ hairy."  
  
 _Bon Jovi put out their first hit single "Runaway" in 1984. Do you want to see a picture of Jon Bon Jovi's hair from 1984? You know you do._  
  
[Jon Bon Jovi, 1984](https://mikeladano.com/2015/09/13/review-bon-jovi-bon-jovi-1984/)  
  
  

  * “Na na na-na na na.”  
“Is that Journey?” asks Edrisa.  
“It’s tearing me apart!”

[Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin' – Journey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fTkHFQC3wow)  
  
  

  * “I guess we'll have to find another way for the city to remember my name, but mark my words, you ain’t seen the best of me yet.”

[Fame – Irene Cara](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nqMmquNLnHg)




	6. Jerk Chicken

“Why the sour face, Gus?” asks Shawn. “You wanted to shop for high-end clothes. Now, you finally get to tell me what to wear.” Shawn holds a shirt up to his torso. A black button down with a shiny black paisley pattern. The price tag is outrageous, but he doesn’t let that bother him. Gus can afford it. “What do you think of this one? Not gay enough?”

“This is stupid, Shawn.”

“Your face is stupid.”

“I’m serious Shawn. This is a bad idea.”

“Your face is a bad idea.”

“Lieutenant Arroyo made it perfectly clear that he does _not_ want us involved. So, as interesting as it has been so far, I think it’s time we drop it.”

“Drop our ‘Murder in the Gayborhood’ case? Nonsense, Gus! Besides, I thought you were enjoying being all buddy-buddy with ‘Malcolm Bright.’” Shawn does air quotes around the profiler’s name.

“That’s his name, Shawn. He changed it, legally.” Gus’s sour face breaks into a bashful but goofy smile. “I _do_ like the idea of working with him.” He brushes his thumb against the side of his nose and moves off to look at another rack of shirts.

Shawn calls after him, “You gotta be kidding me, Gus! You have a man crush on him, don’t you?”

Gus calls back, deeply involved in searching for just the right piece of clothing, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shawn. What I do know is that you need a much gayer shirt if you’re going to look good next to me at the club tonight.”

The next store they go into has regular clothing in the front and fetish gear in the back. “Hey Gus, how do you feel about me wearing a collar and you holding my leash?”

“That’s a negative for me, Shawn. I’m afraid my comfort zone doesn’t stretch quite that far.”

“Then I guess this outfit is out?” Shawn points to some type of get up consisting mostly of studded leather straps. Neither one of them is quite sure what it’s supposed to be or where it’s supposed to go.

“Let’s keep it classy, okay Shawn?”

They stop in a funky vintage store with a lot of rock ’n’ roll gear. “Found it!” shouts Shawn, grinning widely. He holds up a sleeveless white halter top with big black block letters that says ‘FRANKIE SAYS RELAX.’

Gus furrows his brow and shakes his head, “too gay.”

“Oh, come on Gus. It’s perfect! I thought we were going for gay.”

“You might want to look up the definition of ‘classy.’ Johnson’s is an upscale establishment. We’re trying to blend in, remember?"

“Okay, I’ll give ya that, but how many more stores are we going to go in? I might be at my shopping limit.”

“Stop your whining. This is what happens when you don’t pack properly for a seven day vacation. _I_ brought appropriate clothes to wear for a night club. So any shopping I do this week is going to be at an enjoyable, leisurely pace.” If Gus sounds like he’s gloating, it’s because he is.

In the end, Shawn ends up with a shimmery red shirt with silver accents. Nothing too outlandish, but still showy enough to fit the bill. He’ll have to take Juliet out somewhere nice when he gets back to Santa Barbara so he can get more than just one use out of the shirt.

******

They eat dinner at a highly-rated Cuban restaurant, where the two are happily devouring the most scrumptious jerk chicken they’ve ever tasted. Gus is thrilled to be able to check at least one thing off his list. He holds up his phone, showing an actual list. “Look at this, Shawn. Do you see ‘murder’ anywhere on here? No. There is no ‘murder’ on this list. ‘Broadway Show’ is right at the top, though. That was supposed to happen tonight. But now that’s not happening.”

“I also don’t see ‘solving a case with your favorite famous profiler’ on that list, but that _is_ happening, maybe tonight. So you better add that to your list.”

Gus shrugs, considering the trade off, “I hear that.”

Back at the hotel, Gus slathers oil on his close-cropped head.

“That doesn’t smell like your usual lavender.”

“It’s not. This one is vanilla. I like this oil so much, I got it in four different scents: vanilla, lavender, cedar, and amber.”

“Sweet vanilla for your sweet chocolate head.”

“You know that’s right. Gay bar or not, we are still going out on the town in New York City, and I plan to smell and look _delicious._ ”

Gus dresses in black pants with a slight flare and a tailor fit black shirt with an elongated color and cuffed sleeves. He tucks in the shirt and adds a thick black leather belt to match. Then he stands in front of Shawn and does a slow turn around to show off his look.

“Gus, the ’70s call-“

Gus cuts him off with a hand held up, “Nobody called, Shawn. No decade, person, or object called and wants anything back.” He runs his hands in a seductive path over the front of his shirt. “The ladies are going to looove me.”

“Not _ladies_ , Gus.”

“Oh, right. Gay dudes are going to be all over this, _whaat?"_

“You better not be mackin’ on any other dudes. You’re supposed to be _my_ lover in the nighttime. I won’t stand for a wandering eye.”

“Don’t worry Shawn, I will treat you like a lady. Or a man. However this gay thing works. But absolutely no smooching, Shawn. And there better not be any butt-pinching. I will not be responsible if my elbow flies up and makes contact with your face.”

Gus takes one last turn in front of the mirror, smoothing down his outfit and ‘mmm hmm’ing in appreciation of his own image. “Admit it, Shawn. I look good. Like a player. A playa named Guuus.” He draws the moniker out to enhance its cool factor.

“You’re going as ‘A Playa named Gus?’ Don’t be Donny Osmond’s purple socks.”

“I like it, Shawn. If I ever start my own radio show, I think that’s what I’ll go by.” Gus adjusts his collar, chin held high.

Shawn scoffs, “Oh, it’s a great name for a radio personality. If you're okay having only one listener. Most likely one mentally-disturbed, oddly-obsessed listener. But I wouldn’t worry about it, Gus, because that dream is _never_ gonna happen.”

Gus clicks his tongue in disagreement and grabs his wallet and hotel key. “It’s almost ten o’clock. You ready to do this?”

“I was born ready.”

* * *

**CHAPTER NOTES / REFERENCES**   
  


  * “Drop our ‘Murder in the Gayborhood’ case?"  
  
 _West Village in New York City is primarily a gay neighborhood.  
  
  
_


  * He holds up a sleeveless white halter top with big black block letters that says ‘FRANKIE SAYS RELAX.’  
  
 _Anybody remember those from the '80s?  
  
_[Frankie Says Relax T-shirt](https://www.teepublic.com/tank-top/5611472-frankie-say-relax-shirt-vintage?feed_sku=5611472D2V&ar_clx=yes&ar_channel=google&ar_campaign=71700000074371626&ar_adgroup=58700006418680250&ar_ad=PRODUCT_GROUP&ar_strategy=search&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=G.PLA+-+%5BG.USA%5D+%5BL.ENG%5D+%5BC.TankTops%5D&gclsrc=aw.ds&gclid=Cj0KCQjwxNT8BRD9ARIsAJ8S5xZW-UtwYPkm-yI6QDmXk8TBvI31FQIn2v08C1YaJbo7SyJTVigMU_kaAhrKEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds)  
  
[Relax – Frankie Goes to Hollywood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7WZ33w3B8Hw)  
  
  
  

  * “Admit it, Shawn. I look good. Like a player. A playa named Guuus.”   
“You’re going as ‘A Playa named Gus?’"  
“I like it, Shawn. If I ever start my own radio show, I think that’s what I’ll go by.”  
Shawn scoffs, “Oh, it’s a great name for a radio personality. If you're okay having only one listener.  
Most likely one mentally-disturbed, oddly-obsessed listener. But I wouldn’t worry about it, Gus, because that dream is _never_ gonna happen.”  
  
 _All you_ psych _fans out there know that Gus's dream eventually came true in Season 7, Episode 12: Dead Air_  
  
[psych "A Playa Named Gus" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AB6veK0RBvw)  
  
  
  

  * "Don’t be Donny Osmond’s purple socks.”  
  
 _There are a lot of references to Donnie's purple socks. This is just one._  
  
[Deep Purple Socks – Donny Osmond](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iupVN8Wxcz8)




	7. Scotch on the Rocks

“CAN YOU LOOK AT THIS PHOTO, AND TELL ME IF YOU RECOGNISE HIM?” JT shouts for the eighth time that night.

They’ve been at Johnson’s for the last half hour. It’s still early, so the place isn’t full to the brim with patrons just yet, though the EDM music pumping through the speakers is making Malcolm’s head vibrate. The trip out has been a bust, so far. Gil had gotten the owner, Mr. George Johnson, to agree to let his people ask the staff questions just after they opened, but the noise and the lights are making it hard for Malcolm to concentrate.

“Is it just me,” Malcolm asks JT as they strike out yet again, “or is it awfully early in the evening to have the music on so loud?"

“It’s not just you. I was thinking the same thing. What the hell kind of music is this anyway?" JT is not exactly old, but he feels like he’s too old for this shit.

“EDM.” Malcolm replies.

“ED what?”

“Electronic dance music. EDM.”

“Sounds like a venereal disease. Literally."

“A lot of clubs play only this type of music, I was not aware that Johnson’s was one of them. Not that I am all that up on the club scene. Haven’t really been to one in forever.”

“You? Not a clubber? Naw,” JT teases him.

As they move through the staff with JT going through their list of questions, Malcolm watches face after face crease in concentration, as if trying to catch the wisp of a memory and drag it forward but inevitably failing at the task. He catches some furtive glances from staff to staff. There are even a few employees who get that deer-in-the-headlights look when JT identifies himself as NYPD, only to relax once they are shown the picture of the victim. An odd reaction, to say the least. Something is off in this club, but Malcolm doesn’t yet have enough pieces of the puzzle to figure out what the initial panic is about.

They only have three people left to talk to, the bartenders. JT leans over the counter, addressing a well-muscled man in his late twenties with a slate-gray dye job. It is beyond JT as to why somebody too young to worry about gray hair would want to dye it gray deliberately. When the DMV photo is flashed in front of the bartender, Malcolm observes small changes in the man’s posture that the others haven’t exhibited. His square jaw clenches, and Malcolm suspects he might be biting the inside of his cheek. His hands tighten their grip on the edge of the bar.

The bartender recognizes their victim.

“YOU KNEW OUR VICTIM?!” Malcolm shouts above the thumping bass.

“WHAT?” The man leans further in, pretending not to hear the question.

“HE SAID, DID YOU KNOW OUR VICTIM?” JT pushes the photo closer to the man’s face.

A few quick blinks, and then the guy is shaking his head at the pair.

“NO, NO I DIDN’T,” he replies.

Malcolm isn’t convinced and is about to shout a follow up but is interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. He turns around to find the club owner staring at him, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“ARE YOU DONE HERE? THIS PLACE IS ABOUT TO GET BUSY, AND I DON'T NEED MY CUSTOMERS BEING SPOOKED AWAY BY THE FIVE-0."

Malcolm looks at JT whose face is assembled into an expression that Malcolm recognizes all too well. He’s had enough.

“YEAH, WE’RE DONE HERE.” Malcolm answers.

Malcolm leads JT to the vestibule by the entrance and spins around suddenly, stopping the detective in his tracks.

“JT, that bartender knows something.” Malcolm states.

“What makes you say that, brainy?” JT is unmoved.

“He recognized Wheeler’s face when you showed him the picture. We need to get back there and talk to him!” Malcolm is starting to shout and garner stares from the few people hanging around the entrance.

JT shakes his head by way of an answer. “Not tonight, Bright. Johnson doesn’t want us in there anymore, even I couldn’t miss how pissed he was.”

“We can’t leave a lead hanging like that, JT? Where’s your dedication to the case?” Malcolm pleads.

“It’s there alright, but unless you want to explain to Gil why this guy lodges a complaint in the morning with the Commissioner, we need to come back another time. Look, I’ll ask the owner in the morning for the guy's details. In the meantime, we need to do this properly. Not to mention, Gil will seriously blow a gasket if he finds out you went back in there after being asked to leave.”

Malcolm knows JT is right, but he had been so close to teasing something out from the bartender, it’s hard for him to temper his drive to go back inside and press the man. JT starts up again towards the exit and continues along his way. Malcolm follows, but stops outside the club for a moment, still reluctant to drop his hunch. He’s only taken a few steps down the street when a familiar voice stops him.

“Hey, Mr. Bright! Malcolm!”

Malcolm turns around. It’s Gus and his so-called psychic friend from the crime scene. And the morgue. There’s no way those two are here by coincidence. They’re dressed for the club, and it’s not hard for Malcolm to deduce that they intend to crash the investigation, regardless of Gil’s directive.

_Well, if this man wants to play psychic, let’s see how he fares in the real world._

They might be able to learn something he and JT couldn’t. Why not throw Hansel and Gretel a few breadcrumbs, see if they can find their way home.

******

When Shawn and Gus arrive at the club, it’s close to 10:30 p.m. There is loud music filtering out from the building, but no line, not many people around at all, just two bouncers at the door chatting with each other, seemingly not at all interested in potential clientele. Shawn slaps the back of his hand against Gus’s side to get his attention and points to the bald bouncer. “Tell me that’s not Billy Zane.”

“That’s not Billy Zane.”

“Why do you have to tell me that, Gus? It’s New York City. It _might_ be Billy Zane."

“It’s not Billy Zane.” Gus rolls his eyes and catches a familiar figure walking away from the club. “Hey, Mr. Bright! Malcolm!” Shawn follows Gus after the profiler.

Malcolm stops and turns, smiling at them. “Shawn. Gus. I’m surprised _, not at all_ , to see you two here. I had a feeling you wouldn’t listen to Gil when he told you he doesn’t want you on the case.”

Shawn pipes up, “Of _course_ , he wants us on the case. He just doesn’t know it yet."

“No…he _really_ doesn’t want you on the case.”

Gus asks Malcolm, “So, you just came from the club? What did you find out? Any leads?"

“Not much. One person who vaguely recognized our vic, but wouldn’t tell us more than that. And another whom I’d like to question further. Unfortunately, Gil has forbidden me to go back in, because he wants to gather more information first. But there’s definitely something fishy going on in there. It’s unusual to get almost no information, whatsoever. They pretty much all clammed up when they saw that we were cops. And it wasn’t like it was busy, it’s too early in the night for the main crowd.”

 _‘One they’d like to question further’?_ thinks Shawn. _That means the perp is probably somebody who works there. Oh, this will be easy!_ He’s itching to get inside the place.

“Good news!” says Shawn. “We don’t look like cops at all. Check it out: I’m Kool, and this is my partner, The Gang. And when I say partner, I don’t mean in the business sense. I mean that we are lovers in the nighttime. His kiss is on my list. I just can’t quit him. He’s the one that I want-”

“Shawn,” interrupts Gus.

“Just a couple of guys – a couple of _gay_ guys – _really_ gay guys - who are looking for a night out on the town in New York City. If we just happen to pick up on anything _murdery_ when we’re in there, well, that would be a huge coinkydink, wouldn’t it? Hey, wait- what do you mean ‘too early’? It’s past ten o’clock.”

“I don’t know how things work in Santa Barbara, but in New York, the clubs really don’t start grooving until around midnight."

“Which means we have a little over an hour before the place fills up,” says Gus, “Why is that music so loud? I didn’t bring earplugs with me."

“Oh, Gus, don’t be the kid on _The_ _Waltons_ that everybody said good night to last. That’s probably the way they do it here in The City,” Shawn speculates.

“No,” says Malcolm, “the music is unusually loud.”

Malcolm leans in a little towards the two with his palms outstretched, arms raised. “Okay, listen up, guys. Gil has strongly advised you against getting involved with this case. In fact, he has flat out told you ‘No’. _However_ , I cannot stop you from going in there, I cannot stop you from picking up on any information if you happen to. And I absolutely cannot stop you from meeting me at that café across the street,“ he throws a thumb at the one he has in mind, “in an hour and a half to tell me about said information. Is that enough time?"

Simultaneously, the two break out into a happy dance, with Gus clapping his hands and tapping his foot, and Shawn doing a modified version of the Cabbage Patch. Simultaneously, they stop.

Shawn’s smile couldn’t be wider, “Yes, sir,” he says, stomping a foot and saluting, “You can count on us, sir!” He turns to Gus, “Are you ready, my sweet, vanilla-scented chocolate partner?"

“You know that’s right,” answers Gus.

“Let’s rock this Casbah.”

They fist-bump on it and turn to go into the club.

****

Shawn and Gus have hardly been inside Johnson’s for ten minutes when the music abruptly changes from cranked-up, hard pumping EDM to a mixture of modern and classic dance tunes. It’s 11 p.m. and the volume is noticeably lower; more what one would expect at any given nightclub.

“Thank God,” says Gus, “I thought my eardrums were gonna bust. I don’t think I could have listened to that for an entire hour and a half.”

They wander around the club, taking in the lay of the land. Gus is getting caught up in the music and would love to dance, but when he looks around, he sees nothing but men.

Shawn is noticing bits and pieces of the club puzzle, though he’s not yet sure which pieces will end up being relevant. The man taking money at the entrance. His hair is an unnatural shade of yellow, and he’s wearing a tight-fitting black mesh shirt. One can tell by his greeting style which customers are regulars. The young woman with the bouncy ponytail and a genuine smile that reaches her eyes, stamping people’s hands as they come in and bidding them a good evening. The DJ and lighting booth on the second floor loft with an ‘employees only’ sign on the entrance. Shawn wonders if this DJ plans to play dance tunes all night or if he will switch back to EDM at some point. A single bathroom with a plaque that reads ‘Studs.’ Shawn thinks about the couple of women who work there. Do they use the Studs bathroom? Or is there an employee bathroom in the back? Next to the bar, an unmarked door with some stairs leading down. Shawn has noticed a couple of the bartenders emerging from that door more than once. He finds it curious that they’re not carrying anything down or back up. It might be worthwhile to get a closer look.

“Let’s get some drinks and mingle,” Shawn says to Gus. “Malcolm thinks one of the employees is good for it, so we should mostly be looking at them.”

“If Malcolm thinks it’s one of the employees, then it’s definitely one of the employees. That man is a profiling genius.”

Shawn gives a slap to the back of Gus’s oiled-up head. “You’re on a date with me, not Malcolm,” he teases. “Remember the golden rule: ‘Bros before Bros.’”

Shawn saunters up to the bar, Gus following. He leans over the counter and waves to get the bartender’s attention, a beefy fellow with perfectly-coiffed, dark gray hair. Shawn’s mind flashes back to the hair he found on the victim’s jacket. It’s too dark inside the club to be certain, but he suspects it’s a match. The man obviously keeps up with his grooming and has no roots showing, which would explain why Edrisa assumed it was natural.

“Good sir!” Shawn says when the bartender comes over to them, “I’m Lady Godiva and this is my partner, Chantilly Billy. We’ll have five gin rummys. _Each._ ”

The bartender doesn’t miss a beat, “Gin rummy is a card game, not a drink.”

“How is that possible? It has both ‘gin’ _and_ ‘rum’ in it.”

Gus intervenes, “I’ll have a scotch on the rocks, and he’ll have a piña colada.”

Shawn adds, “With a tiny umbrella. You do have tiny umbrellas, right?”

The man does not respond, but gives a half grimace and gets to work making their drinks. Shawn watches intently, his eyes going immediately to the ring on the bartender’s finger which is a mirror match to the custom-made design Clay Wheeler was wearing. This one is gold instead of silver, and the larger and smaller stones have swapped places, the large stone being the diamond and the small one being what Shawn assumes is black onyx. Shawn nudges his knee against Gus’s and leans over to whisper to him, “He’s our man! He’s got the matching ring.”

“ _Whaat?_ ” says Gus, by way of happy acknowledgment. He gently fist bumps his friend beneath the cover of the bar.

The bartender hands Gus his drink first and then Shawn’s, with a slightly sarcastic, “Sorry, man. We’re fresh out of tiny umbrellas.”

Shawn reaches for his drink and pointedly drags his fingers over the bartender’s hand. “Nice ring,” he says, “Looks like an engagement ring. Or a fancy wedding band. You must have a special someone. Like I do.” Shawn points back and forth from Gus to himself. “This is _my_ special someone. We’re luuuvers in the nighttime.” Shawn looks at Gus with mock annoyance, “He wanted to bring his friends, but I said ‘No.’ His friends don’t dance, so they’re no friends of mine!” Then he turns back to the bartender, “Where’s _your_ special someone tonight? Is he here?”

The bartender looks uncomfortable, quickly pulling his fingers away from the glass, but he recovers just as quickly, “He’s not here tonight. $25”

Shawn whistles at the steep price. Gus shakes his head, taking out his wallet and giving the man a twenty and a ten. “Keep the change.” The bartender bestows Gus with a smile that Shawn did not get and walks away to tend to other customers.

“Guess our work is finished here,” says Shawn, clinking his glass against Gus’s. They settle in to sip at their drinks in leisure.

20 minutes later, the drinks are almost gone, and Shawn notices two of the bartenders, including theirs, disappear through the unmarked door next to the bar. Shawn’s senses go on red alert. “Guess our work is _not_ finished here,“ he whispers to Gus. “Let’s follow them and see where those stairs lead.” They take one last sip of their drinks and leave them on the counter, casually wandering over to the door, cautious of who might be watching. When the time is right, Shawn puts his back to the door, ready to push through it. “This is going to require Stealth Mode,” he says to Gus.

Gus gets a determined and serious look on his face. “You just hit that Jackal Switch when you’re ready."

Shawn cracks the door open with his body, peeking through to make sure the coast is clear before nodding to Gus to enter behind him. Then he holds up his fist, using a knocking motion to count off, 1, 2, and on 3, his index finger pops up and they both enter a crouch position and tip-toe silently down the stairs. They reach the bottom and find themselves in a short corridor. They can hear voices coming from a room towards the end of the hall. They both hug the wall, back pressed against it, and crab-step their way closer to the room until they are able to hear what the voices are saying. If they strain their necks forward, they can even see what’s going on inside.

There are several men in there, including the two bartenders, and they seem to be in the middle of a negotiation. One of the men, wearing a large-link gold chain definitely of the gaudy type, is holding a clear plastic bag half filled with something white. He dips his little finger into it and brings it up to his mouth to taste. Shawn and Gus turn to each other with wide eyes and a knowing look. Then they turn back to watch, both of them straining their ears to clearly hear the conversation.

“How much?” asks the man with the bag.

“Six hundred large,” says the bartender who did not serve Shawn and Gus. “You’re good for it, right?” Shawn notices the sweet pair of vintage Air Jordans the man is wearing.

“Of course, I’m good for it. Only if it’s the same quality you have here. Try to switch anything up on me, and it won’t be pretty." The intimidating-looking man standing next to him shifts his stance and crosses his heavily-tattooed, considerably-muscled arms in solidarity.

“Tuesday 1 a.m.,” says the gray-haired bartender. “Place will be packed. Nobody will notice. Exchange happens down here. You bring the dough, we bring the snow. Anything looks off, we call it off.”

Air Jordans looks uncomfortable at that sentiment. "Should we have a code word? I mean, if something goes wrong?"

Gray hair answers, "What, like ‘open sesame’? Don't be ridiculous. We don't need a code word. And _nothing's_ gonna go wrong. Got it?”

“Got it.” The two men grip hands momentarily to seal the deal. Shawn gives Gus an insistent shove, indicating that they need to high-tail it out of there and now. They double their pace, hugging the wall and crab-stepping back the way they came, and then running up the stairs, abandoning Stealth Mode in their haste. Just as they hear the voices coming out of the room, they make it through the door unseen and casually blend back in with the crowd.

* * *

**CHAPTER NOTES / REFERENCES**  
  


  * Mr. George Johnson  
  
_His first name is George as a shout-out to George Michael._  
  
[George Michael](https://www.georgemichael.com/about/)  
  
  

  * Why not throw Hansel and Gretel a few breadcrumbs, see if they can find their way home.  
  
_From the famous 1812 fairy tale,_ Hansel and Gretal, _by the Brother's Grimm. (Malcolm doesn't do '80s references, k.)_  
_"Hansel takes a slice of bread and leaves a trail of bread crumbs for them to follow home. However, after they are once again abandoned, they find that the birds have eaten the crumbs and they are lost in the woods."_  
  
[Hansel and Gretel (americanliterature.com)](https://americanliterature.com/childrens-stories/hansel-and-gretel)  
  
  



  * Billy Zane  
  
_Another one of Shawn's man crushes.  
  
_[Billy Zane (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000708/) _  
_  
  
  

  * "I’m Kool, and this is my partner, The Gang."  
  
[Celebration – Kool & The Gang](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sLuNC5RCjY4)  
  
  

  * "His kiss is on my list." 

[Kiss on My List – Hall & Oates](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6u9FrXBWu_I)  
  
  

  * "I just can’t quit him."

[Brokeback Mountain "I Wish I Knew How to Quit You" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KVK6yLqY54w)  
  
  

  * "He’s the one that I want-”

[You're The One That I Want - John Travolta and Olivia Newton John (Grease)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=itRFjzQICJU)  
  
  
  

  * “Oh, Gus, don’t be the kid on _The Waltons_ that everybody said good night to last."



[The Waltons "Goodnight" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cp7_u0kcQRo)  
  
  


  * The Cabbage Patch  
  
_Where the dance originated._  
  
[The Cabbage Patch - Gucci Crew II](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0t28_sMe0cI)  
  
[How to Do the Cabbage Patch – Hip-Hop Dancing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4STZCPuhf0)  
  
  

  * “Yes, sir,” he says, stomping a foot and saluting, “You can count on us, sir!”

[Stripes "You Can Count On Me, Sir" clip](https://getyarn.io/yarn-clip/986c7876-d96d-4646-928b-e56ed041fbdc)  
  
  

  * “Let’s rock this Casbah.”

[Rock the Casbah - The Clash](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJ9r8LMU9bQ&list=PLQ7NWLf-GRNwnbfIcMbOFhQ_n6gAWNgSc&index=3&t=0s)  
  
  
  

  * "...he’ll have a piña colada.”  
  
_**Spot the Pineapple!** The piña colada drink definitely has pineapple in it. In fact, 'piña colada' means 'strained pineapple' in Spanish._  
_And it would definitely be fun to have a recipe for it._  
  
[Piña Colada Recipe (Food Network)](https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/pina-colada-recipe0-1956362)  
  
  
  

  * “His friends don’t dance, so they’re no friends of mine!”  
  
[The Safety Dance - Men Without Hats](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nM4okRvCg2g)  
  
  

  * “This is going to require Stealth Mode”  
“You just hit that Jackal Switch when you’re ready."   
  
[psych "Hit the jackal Switch" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KK3fuxjAhqs)  
  
  




  * Sweet pair of vintage Air Jordans  
  
[Original Air Jordans](https://www.jordan.com/collection/air-jordan-1)





	8. Victory Snacks

Shawn and Gus make a noisy entrance to the café, each singing their own modified version of “Faith.” They stop at the counter first to pick out some victory snacks before joining Malcolm Bright. Despite their obvious entrance, Malcolm still startles at Shawn’s loud, “Freeze!” as he and Gus approach the table with their goodies in hand. Shawn slips easily into the booth across from Malcolm with another exclamation of “Rock!”, hitting his hand against the table for emphasis. Gus slides in next to him.

“Rang dang diggedy dang di-dang,” Shawn sings.

“I’m sorry?” asks Malcolm.

“Rang dang diggedy dang di-dang.” He stops the singing to say, “It’s got a ring to it, don’t ya think?”

“You’re going to have to speak English.” Malcolm looks to Gus for help, but Gus only gives him a self-satisfied smile and waits for Shawn to do his thing.

“You found something,” says Malcolm. It’s the only outcome that explains their current behavior.

“Oh, we found something, all right,” says Gus, practically purring. “Something expected. And something… _unexpected."_ Gus raises a brow and his voice is filled with whimsical intrigue. “Your team is going to want to hold out on that arrest. You’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

Malcolm sits up straighter in his seat, eyes getting brighter. He’s definitely interested.

“It’s got a ring to it, and we found the matching one!” announces Shawn. “If the large bartender with the dyed gray hair is the one you wanted to question further, I can confirm for you that that is your man. Whenever those prints from the brick get back, the DNA will slam dunk it.”

Now Malcolm is very excited. “What do you mean matching ring? Are you telling me that he was wearing the exact same type of ring we pulled off our victim? Some sort of matching wedding band situation?”

“Correctamundo,” says Shawn.

Gus chimes in, enunciating his words for full effect, “You’ll find that the indentation on the victim’s ring will fit in perfectly with the indentation on the bartender’s ring. A homologue, if you will.”

Shawn sighs and rolls his eyes, “Stop making up words, Gus.”

Malcolm slaps the palm of his hand against his forehead. “The ring! How on earth did I miss the ring?” Gil is not going to let him live this one down. “Okay, so I assume that was the expected thing. Now, what was the unexpected thing?”

Shawn folds his arms in front of him on the table and leans in close, in conspiratorial fashion. “Okay, get this. I noticed the ring when the bartender handed me my drink. No big deal, right? But when my fingers brushed his fingers during the handoff, whoa!! It was like Christopher Walken in _The Dead Zone!_ Something like a phenomenon. I saw a vision that almost knocked me over. A million magic crystals painted pure and white! And cash. A multi-million dollars in cash! That’s when the unmarked door next to the bar started glowing, just begging us to figure out what was behind it!”

“A drug deal?” asks Malcolm.

“Exactly!” says Shawn, pointing to the center of his forehead, “I saw it all. Right here. And then when we went down the stairs, my vision was confirmed.”

Malcolm narrows his eyes and purses his lips. He doesn’t doubt that Shawn found some information to make him believe that a drug deal is going down, but he knows damn well it wasn’t because of a psychic vision. But he holds his tongue. These two were able to get information that Malcolm is still kicking himself for not seeing, and he doesn’t want to discourage whatever they’re about to reveal next.

“That’s right,” says Gus. “We snuck down into that basement and overheard some men, including our killer, talking about a drug deal. Sounded like cocaine. The bar is bringing the drugs, and some other guys are bringing the cash.”

“A multi-million dollars, almost overnight!” says Shawn.

“Actually, it was only 600,000,” Gus shrugs.

“Probably 20 kilos,” figures Malcolm.

“$30,000 a pop?” Gus gives a low whistle, “Goddamn, kilogram.”

“Look how cute you are, Gus, pretending you can do math,” says Shawn, chuckling.

“I _can_ do math, Shawn”

“Yeah, right. And my dad is retired and balding.”

“Your dad _is_ retired and balding.”

“Manhattan prices,” says Malcolm. “Did you overhear any other information about this deal?”

“It’s happening on Tuesday at 1 a.m. in the same basement room we saw them in,” says Gus.

Shawn is gazing contemplatively out the café window at the club across the street. He notices a black SUV parked around the side. “Hey guys, look over there. There’s really no reason somebody would need a car to come to this club, unless they were, say, carrying a briefcase full of cash or a duffel bag full of cocaine? I bet you there’s a side entrance that goes straight to the basement.”

Malcolm makes a mental note to case the place before he heads home. A side entrance leading to the area they’re talking about could make or break their bust when it happens.

“Tuesday at 1 a.m.?” asks Malcolm. “You’re sure?”

“Sure as the driven snow,” says Shawn, settling back in his seat.

“This is information Gil is going to want to hear, though I probably shouldn’t tell him how I found out,” says Malcolm. He gets out his phone and shoots off a quick text to Gil, stating only the pertinent facts so the team can start working first thing Sunday morning. Malcolm figures he can deflect any further questions in person.

Shawn grins widely. “Ha! Look at us, working a case together! We’re like Charlie’s Angels, and Gil is Charlie, and we finally, _finally_ have a black angel.”

“You know that’s right,” says Gus.

“See, Gus,” says Shawn, “I told you this would be better than Broadway.”

Malcolm smiles, “You like Broadway?”

“We were on our way to see The Phantom of the Opera when we ran across your crime scene. I tried, but Shawn wouldn’t let it go. I can’t believe I came all the way out to New York City, and I’m not going to see a Broadway show. I might cry.”

“Please, don’t cry,” says Shawn.

“Yes,” agrees Malcolm, “don’t cry. You still have plenty of time left in the week to see a show.”

“Malcolm’s right,” says Shawn, trying to cheer up his friend, “don’t be a daisy chain made out of sunflowers, you just gotta have faith!”

* * *

**CHAPTER NOTES / REFERENCES**  
  


  * “Freeze! Rock! Rang dang diggedy dang di-dang.   
Something like a phenomenon. A million magic crystals painted pure and white!  
A multi-million dollars, almost overnight!  
Sure as the driven snow."  
  
_All of this comes from "White Lines," originally performed by Grandmaster Flash, and the phenomenal remake by Duran Duran which features Grandmaster Flash.  
  
_[White Lines (Don't Do It) - Grandmaster Flash, 1983](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HsTJaP2tC0A)  
  
[White Lines (Don't Do It) - Duran Duran, 1999](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ct5wm_gy7tE)



  * “It’s got a ring to it, don’t ya think?”  
  
_I'm pretty sure this comes from a Me Phi Me song. The lyrics are "Me Phi Me's got a ring to it; now everybody sing to it."_  
_But I'm not certain, and I can't find it on the Internet. If anybody recognizes this lyric, please comment._  
  
  
  

  * "When my fingers brushed his fingers during the handoff, whoa!!  
It was like Christopher Walken in _The Dead Zone!_ I saw a vision that almost knocked me over."   
  
[The Dead Zone "President Martin Sheen Starts a Nuclear War" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1EO9y4rGxvk)  
  
  
  

  * “Goddamn, kilogram.”  
  
[I Don't Wanna Be Called Yo Niga – Public Enemy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9KJOtQclOA)  
  
  
  

  * "We’re like Charlie’s Angels, and Gil is Charlie, and we finally, _finally_ have a black angel.”  
  
[Charlies Angels - TV Intro, 1976](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtaEFOxMPck)  
  
[Charlies Angels, 2019 - There’s Finally A Black Angel](https://madamenoire.com/1079837/charlies-angels-trailer/)



  * "You just gotta have faith!”  
  
[Faith - George Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i2hLL_UNUSo)




	9. Peanuts

Malcolm makes his way into the precinct with a tray of coffees in one hand and high expectations in the other. He knows that Gil is an early riser, and there is a good chance that he may have more information on their mystery bartender, who by Shawn’s account is also a murderer. He walks into the conference room, announcing his arrival with a cheery greeting,

“Good morning guys! Have we got any leads on the case?”

“It’s 8 a.m. on a Sunday in the office, could you be a little less chipper?” JT grumbles.

“You know me, JT. I love the smell of a good case in the morning,” Malcolm chirps.

Dani nods to the tray left forgotten in his hand. “The only thing that should cheer anyone up this early is good coffee. Care to share?”

“Oh, right! Yes, I forgot, coffees for everyone.” Malcolm hands off the tray to Dani to pass the drinks around, and Malcolm gives everyone a good thirty seconds to enjoy a few sips before he dives back in. “So, did you manage to make any progress on our newest lead from last night?” he asks.

“You mean, did we manage to decipher anything from your message of ‘Gray bartender with Clay Wheeler - deal going down - Tuesday 1 a.m.’ from this morning?” Gil asks.

“Yeah, that one! I figured it would be best to keep it simple,” Malcolm explains.

“This is the one time I would have told you that more is more,” Gil deadpans. He picks up a printout and pushes it towards Malcolm. “Lucky for you, we’ve managed to do a bit of online searching through Wheeler’s social media account and figured out at least part of what you mean. Meet 29-year-old Luke Hammerschmidt, boyfriend of Clay for the last three years.”

The collection of Instagram and Facebook posts show the couple looking happy and relaxed, a far cry from the demeanor that Malcolm had witnessed at the bar last night.

“This is him, that’s definitely the guy,” Malcolm confirms.

“We got that, I was there, too, remember?” JT reminds him.

“Right. Sorry, I was just getting carried away.”

“Could you enlighten us on what you meant by ‘deal going down, Tuesday 1 a.m.’?” Gil asks, “It makes no sense in relation to our murder.”

“Ah, well. It turns out that I managed to get information from someone inside the club, and they told me that Hammerschmidt is our killer and that they’re involved in a drug distribution ring. There’s a deal going down at the club at 1 a.m. on Tuesday, we can stop it!”

Three faces stare blankly back at him.

“You have a source. In a bar. That you got kicked out of yesterday,” Gil says slowly as he processes Malcolm’s breathy update.

“Yes, I do. I have skills, you know.” Malcolm replies, airly.

“Is the source you?” Dani guesses.

“No! No, no, no, not me,” Malcolm denies.

“Are you sure?” Gil questions, “It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve ignored my orders.”

“Scout’s honor, Gil, I did not step foot into that club after I left with JT.”

“But you convinced someone to go in there for you,” JT finishes. He stands with his arms folded across his chest, head dipped deep in thought. There’s a flash of recognition followed by a groan, “Your source is those psychic peanuts from yesterday, am I right?”

Malcolm flushes as he is caught out. “Uh, I believe Gus said they were macadamias rather than peanuts.”

“Wait, what is JT talking about?” Gil asks.

“They were outside the club last night when we left. I figured I’d let Malcolm handle it. Gus looked like he was auditioning for a _Saturday Night Fever_ revival,” JT explains.

“You saw them?!” Malcolm asks incredulously.

“I have eyes, Bright. That shirt of Shawn’s was hard to miss.”

“Kid, did you ask them to scope out a potential suspect of which we have zero evidence against? In a club with staff already on edge from your visit earlier?!” The volume of Gil’s voice is getting louder with each passing word.

“I didn’t ask them to do anything, they were going to check the place out on their own. I didn’t tell them anything, Gil, I promise.” Malcolm walks towards Gil to reassure him, but Gil’s expression is one of warning, so he ends up rocking back to where he was standing before.

The team all take a collective drink from their coffees as Gil processes what he’s just heard. “So you’re saying these two psychics-”

“Fake psychics-” Malcolm interjects.

“Whatever we’re calling them,” Gil silences him, “You’re telling me they were able to get inside the club, deduce that the boyfriend is our murderer, and uncover a drug operation? In the space of what, an hour?” It’s an impressive feat for someone not familiar with the area, let alone the pair that the head detective in Santa Barbara referred to as ‘a couple of chimpanzees.’

Malcolm considers the question put to him before answering, “Hmmm…more or less.”

Dani pipes up, “Did they happen to get a vision on any evidence we can pin the murder of Clay Wheeler on? Or did Shawn just get a _feeling_ through a song?”

“Uh… Shawn mentioned that the fingerprints on the brick will come back for the boyfriend.”

“Nothing else a little more concrete that we can chase down?” Dani presses.

“They have matching rings?” As the words come out of Malcolm’s mouth, he realizes the connections that sounded great at 1 a.m. this morning don’t sound so solid now.

“Unless the boyfriend has a ring-shaped defensive wound on his body somewhere, it’s going to be hard to pin a murder on him just yet,” Dani figures.

“So basically, what you’re saying is, you’ve got a hunch from a pair of macadamias. This is definitely a Bright Special,” JT summarises.

“Yup. Until we get the prints back from the lab it looks like it’s back to the boards, everyone.” Gil claps his hands and the team chat is over. JT and Dani both move to pick up where they had left off.

“Wait, Gil, what about the drug deal?” Malcolm blurts out.

Gil sighs, “What about it?”

“Aren’t you going to look into it? They were talking about hundreds of thousands of dollars exchanging hands.”

“I’ll admit our initial review of the club doesn’t look the cleanest, but it’s not really enough for us to get involved just yet.” Gil throws a notebook in Malcolm’s direction. “Write down what they told you, and I’ll call my guy in narcotics, see if we can get some background on whether this club has come up in any of their operations before.”

Malcolm grabs the notebook before Gil can change his mind.

“Great, this is great.” Malcolm finishes scribbling his notes before handing it back to Gil. He checks his watch for the time and realizes he’s going to be cutting it close to meet Shawn and Gus for lunch. He glances at the door and starts to fidget. Gil notices and takes his glasses off to appraise the profiler.

“Is there something else you wish to share with the class?” Gil asks.

“Uh, I was wondering if I could skip the research today. I’ve promised Shawn and Gus that I’d show them a few sights in the city.”

“You promised the two psychics. Who thought it was okay to bring tacos to a morgue. A tour of the city,” Gil repeats.

“Did they slip something in your 1 a.m. coffee, bro?” JT jokes.

Malcolm fixes JT a dour look. “Haha. Despite the fact that they act like 10-year-olds in 40-year-old bodies, they’re pretty observant guys. Plus, you know what they say about seeing the city through someone else’s eyes. I could have fun!”

“Malcolm Bright making friends, I didn’t think that was even possible!” Dani smirks.

“I know, right?” Malcolm misses the sarcasm entirely.

“You know what? Sure, you can skip the research,” Gil decides.

The teasing smirk drops from Dani's face. “Wait, he can _what?_ He just waltzed in and doubled the workload!” 

“The way I see it, if Malcolm is showing them around the city, they won’t have time to snoop around our case, will they? They’ve already done it once,” Gil reasons.

“That is a fair point. I will happily take one for the team and run interference for the day.” Malcolm’s expression is solemn, but cracks into a grin under the intense glare Dani is sending his way.

“All right then, it’s settled,” Gil announces. “We’ll run out these so-called leads while you’re on babysitting duty. We’ll call you if we need you.”

“Roger that. Thanks, Gil. Bye, guys.” Malcolm half waves.

“You’re on desk duty next time, you peanut,” JT snarks.

Malcolm calls out from the corridor as he leaves, “I’ll be a peanut tomorrow, but today I’m a macadamia!”

* * *

**CHAPTER NOTES / REFERENCES**  
  


  * "Gus looked like he was auditioning for a _Saturday Night Fever_ revival.”  
  
[Saturday Night Fever (John Travolta, Bee Gees)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1qN6gLbUMw)




	10. Ice Cream

  
“This time let’s be like Humpty Hump and take the Magic Bus,” says Shawn. He’s already texted Malcolm to push their lunch meeting an hour later, given that he and Gus could barely open their eyes in time. Their very late morning consisted of a lot of groaning and hitting the snooze button.

“Humpty took the train. The Magic Bus was Robert Daltrey.”

They make the short walk to Fifth Avenue, where they can grab a downtown. “Okay, the Double Dutch Bus, then. Look! Here it comes now. Do you got your funky bus fare?”

The bus is crowded, and they need to stand in the center, holding onto a pole, getting jostled around with each stop. Malcolm suggested that they meet at a café that serves both breakfast and lunch foods. Shawn and Gus plan to get a little of both and call it brunch. Gus holds his hand out in front of him, palm down. “I can’t believe I’m going to spend the whole day with Malcolm Bright. Look at my hand, Shawn. Is it shaking? Do you think I should’ve worn a nicer shirt?”

“Gus, don’t be the sound Prince makes at the beginning of ‘Kiss.’ I don’t think you could like him better, even if you did sleep together. Me thinks you are obsessed.”

“You mean the way you’re obsessed with Pierre Despereaux?”

“Despereaux is only the coolest man in the world!”

“What makes you think Malcolm Bright isn’t cool? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He’s a real genius, Shawn.”

“Hey! What are you trying to say about Val Kilmer?"

“Do you think Malcolm told his boss about us? That we helped out? Maybe he’ll let us in on the case, officially! We might even get a commendation as guest consultants!”

Shawn scoffs.

“What, you don’t think it’s possible?”

“All I’m saying, Gus, is don’t expect to grow flowers in the desert.”

“I’m just saying, if we-“

“And _I’m_ just saying that there ain’t no Coupe DeVille hiding at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box.”

“But if-“

“Look, Gus, I’m trying to tell you that the union of the snake is on the climb.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Shawn.”

******

“You haven’t eaten a thing, Malcolm. Aren’t you going to order something?” Gus asks as he’s stuffing his face with another forkful of extra fluffy French toast drenched in maple syrup and butter with strawberries and whipped cream on top. He slaps Shawn’s hand and gives a glare when Shawn reaches over to steal one of his sausage links. “What is wrong with you, Shawn? You know better than to touch another man’s sausage.”  
  
“You might want to rephrase that,” says Shawn, lifting one brow.

Gus looks properly chastised, but adds for good measure, “Keep your hands on your own plate! That’s a perfectly good Canadian bacon you’ve got there.”

“I want to try some sausage, too,” Shawn whines.

“Suck it,” replies Gus.

“You suck it.”

“No, you suck it.”

And in unison, they both sing, “Suck iiiiiiit!”

That seems to end the battle. Gus hands over a sausage link, and in turn, Shawn slides him a slice of Canadian bacon.

Malcolm sips his lemonade, fascinated as he watches the two interact. This must be a friendship that goes all the way back to childhood. Some of the elements have probably never changed. He feels a wistful pang for his own child self and the friends he lost after his father went to prison. “I had a handful of twizzlers this morning and a coffee at the precinct, so I’m good."

“ _Twizzlers?” says Gus, “And coffee_?" finishes Shawn. Malcolm only shrugs.

Gus holds his index finger up to Malcolm. “Please excuse us for one moment,” he says politely. Then he and Shawn swivel their bodies towards each other, turn their heads to face the back of the booth, and start whispering loudly to one another.

_“Twizzlers for breakfast?”_

_“And just a coffee for lunch?”_

_“What kind of a person does that?”_

_“How is he even still standing?”_

Malcolm interrupts them, “You know I can hear you, right?” The whispering stops, and they turn back to face him. Malcolm just gives a shake of his head, then leans forward, talking excitedly, hands animated. “Dani and JT are doing a thorough investigation of everybody who works in that club, especially George Johnson, the owner. Gil is checking with narcotics. My guess – just about _all_ of them are dirty. We can’t prove it yet, but I’d bet they’ve been dealing out of that place for _years_. Our suspect is Luke Hammerschmidt, 29. We don’t have enough evidence for the murder just yet, we’ll have to wait for the prints on the murder weapon to come back. Based on what I’ve seen so far, it’s highly likely they will be a match.”

Shawn nods, “Luke Hammerhead? 29? That means the crystal on his hand may have already started blinking red.”

“That’s Logan, not Luke,” says Gus.

“Hammer _schmidt_ ,” reiterates Malcolm.

“Right!” says Shawn, “Humperdinck. Too bad his boyfriend wasn’t just _‘mostly_ dead.’”

“That’s _Prince_ Humperdinck,” says Gus.

“Yes,” says Shawn, “What else do we know about our friend Lando? Is he from Cloud City?”

“That’s Calrissian,” says Gus, “How come you haven’t made a ‘Luke, I am your father’ joke yet?”

“Search your feelings,” answers Shawn, “you know it to be true. Hasenpfeffer is our killer AND a drug dealer, but NOT our father.”

“That’s _Laverne and Shirley,_ ” says Gus.

Malcolm spreads his hands out to get their attention. “Guys, guys. Focus. Frankly, if _Hammerschmidt_ had not killed his boyfriend, I don’t think anybody would have discovered those drug deals. Hopefully, narcotics will set up surveillance for Tuesday to keep an eye on the front door and the side door that we found. It does lead to that basement, by the way. Shawn, Gus, how would you like to go back undercover on Tuesday night? It won’t be unusual for you to return there, especially given that it’s ’70s night.” He sends a pointed look Gus’s way and receives a laugh from Shawn and a frown from Gus. “You can keep an eye on what’s going on from the inside, and text me when you see them. Gil might not have all the information he needs in time to make a decision, and we don’t want this to slip through our fingers.”

Gus nods enthusiastically, struggling to hastily swallow his mouthful of food so he can accept the offer.

“Hang on, Gus,” says Shawn, holding a finger out to slow his eager friend while eyeing Malcolm suspiciously, “Let’s not show our cards just yet. We have to know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em.”

“We don’t have any cards, Shawn. And Malcolm is not our opponent. He’s being nice. He doesn’t have to give us any role at all.”

Malcolm nods and smirks, “He’s correct. Based on Gil’s reaction to your first trip into the club this is as close as you’re going to get to this case."

Shawn giggles, “That’s too bad. Gus was hoping to get closer and closer. Sweeter and sweeter. Deeper and deeper…”

Gus glares at him, “You shut your face, Shawn.”

Before Shawn can retort, his phone starts blaring out, _I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts..._

Malcolm notices the name ‘Jules’ flash on the screen when Shawn picks up his phone.

“Hello, sweetie,” says Shawn, “Do you miss me, yet? Is Lassie begging for us to come home? It must be so boring there without us. How was the reunion?” He’s silent for a bit while she responds, and then, “We’re having a blast! It’s true what they say. Every man’s an actor, every girl is pretty. But don’t worry, I won’t talk to strangers. Gus, on the other hand, he met this fancy New York City profiler dude, and he’s all smitten-”

Gus grabs the phone out of Shawn’s hand. “Don’t listen to him, Juliet. I’m sure you already know this, but your boyfriend is an idiot. It’s true, though, that every girl is pretty. I should know because I’ve been checking out _all_ the female honeys.” He looks at Malcolm to make sure he’s listening. “And we _are_ having a good time. We’re actually working a case while we’re here. Can you-“

Shawn grabs his phone back.

“Gus is not lying. When the NYPD heard I was a psychic, they practically _begged_ me to join their case.”

Gus clicks his tongue in disgust. Malcolm’s jaw drops and his eyebrows raise. He throws Gus a look.

While Shawn is finishing up the call, the waitress comes by to place a turkey sandwich in front of Gus, taking his empty French toast plate from him. He gives one half to Shawn and gets to work on his half. Shawn takes a giant bite out of his half and then has to mumble his goodbyes to Juliet.

Malcolm politely declines when the waitress asks him, again, if he wants to order any food. When Gus had originally requested that Malcolm choose a place that serves both breakfast and lunch, Malcolm had assumed they just liked having choices. Now, when he sees what’s actually happening, he’s having a hard time wrapping his head around it.

****

They finish up at the restaurant and head out to walk around the area, Malcolm happily playing tour guide. Other than shopping for Shawn’s shirt to wear to the club, this is the first time the pair have been able to relax and take in their surroundings.

“I’m tellin’ ya, Gus,” says Shawn, slapping the front of Gus’s shirt with the back of his hand to get Gus’s attention, “every movie _ever_. Look, there’s _Taxi Driver._ ” Shawn points to a line of taxis waiting for passengers. Then he points out a fashionable and severe-looking woman walking quickly down the street in stilettos. “ _The Devil Wears Prada,_ ” he says, and then, “ _Devil’s Advocate,_ ” as he points across the street at some businessmen dressed up in their expensive suits. As they walk on, he gestures with his head toward a couple laughing together at a sidewalk table outside of a restaurant, “ _When Harry Met Sally._ ” And not long after that, he nods to a drag queen passing by. “ _Tootsie_ ,” he says, “or _Big Trouble in Little China._ ”

“That was San Francisco, Shawn.”

“Really? Damn, I guess I have to watch that one again.”

“That’s okay,” says Gus, “as long as we don’t see _Escape from New York_.”

“Well, they’re both Kurt Russell, anyway. And I would be Snake.”

“Why do you get to be Snake? And who does that make me?”

“I don’t know, Gus. I guess you’d be whoever Harry Dean Stanton was.”

“Why would I be an old white dude?”

Malcolm interrupts them as much to stop their ridiculous ramblings as it is to join in on the conversation, “Hey, if you guys like movies, there’s a place right down that street on the right-hand side, Minetta Tavern. That’s where _Mickey Blue Eyes_ with Hugh Grant was filmed.”

“Cool! That was a great movie,” says Shawn.

Malcolm says, “Yes, that’s what I’ve heard.”

“You haven’t seen it?” asks Shawn, “And what do you mean _if_ we like movies?” Who doesn’t like movies?”

Gus nods his assent.

Malcolm is quick to confirm, “Oh, I like movies! In fact, I just had my team over on Saturday to watch _Die Hard_. We got interrupted because of the case, but it’s really good. I’m looking forward to finishing it.”

Gus and Shawn look at each other with matching furrowed brows, “You’ve never seen _Die Hard?_ ” they ask in unison. Shawn follows it up with, “Have you seen _any_ movies? Like _one_ movie?”

“I’ve seen movies,” Malcolm assures them.

“Name one,” Gus challenges.

“ _Wolf Creek_. It’s one of my favorites.”

Shawn and Gus look at each other once more and start debating back and forth in lowered voices, “ _Wolf Creek?_ ” “Have you heard of that?” “Did we see that?” “Is that even a movie?” “It’s definitely not from the ’80s.” “I don’t think there was any ‘ _Wolf Creek_ ’ filmed in New York City.” “Maybe he’s just making it up.”

“I’m not making it up,” Malcolm almost pouts, disappointed that they have never heard of his favorite movie. “I saw _Titanic_ ,“ he tries.

“Ah, _Titanic_ ,“ says Shawn, “iconic film.”

Gus winces. “That movie scared the bejesus out of me. You know if I was on that ship, they would’ve thrown my black ass overboard before it even started sinking."

Shawn hums and nods in agreement.

Malcolm figures it’s best to change the subject. “So…any stores you see, you want to go in, just let me know. Any particular place you want to go. You got me all day, guys, and I know this town like the back of my hand.”

****

True to his word, Malcolm indulges the two, following them into whatever stores they seem to like and patiently waiting for them to satisfy their curiosities. After several blocks and at least a dozen stores, they both seem happy with their purchases. Along with some classy stationery and an elegant pen to go with it, Gus ends up with a high-end, handcrafted leather Artemis Quibble belt for $395. To Gus’s delight, Malcolm praises him for his taste. Shawn runs off a list of ten items he could’ve bought for the price of that one belt. Shawn buys a handful of vintage toys and a couple of packets of grape-flavored Big League Chew. And a gift for Juliet - a white half-T-shirt with a silhouette of the Statue of Liberty and curlicue letters in blue and red glitter that read _‘My boyfriend went to New York City and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.’_ Malcolm and Gus try unsuccessfully to talk him out of that atrocity.

As they walk along, Gus is the first to notice the music coming from one of the street performers. It’s a pleasant mix of jazz and funk. He stops to listen, bobbing his head and tapping his hand against his thigh, a big smile spreading on his face. Shawn and Malcolm stop also. There are a few people standing around watching. Some of the passers-by pause to drop quarters or dollar bills into the open trumpet case.

Gus moves closer to the performer, snapping his fingers and stepping to the beat. The musician smiles at him, inviting him to enjoy the music. Gus breaks out in a tapping routine, doing a remarkable job in shoes that were never meant for tapping. Malcolm is surprised and delighted at the impromptu show. Shawn claps along to the beat, encouraging his friend. When Gus glances his way, Shawn holds up his index finger, back of his hand facing outward, and mouths “I’m proud of you.” Gus grins back and sneaks a look to see if Malcolm is watching.

The musician keeps it going for a while, perfectly matching in tone what Gus is putting out in energy, and finally, gently fading to a stop when he sees that Gus is starting to tire. When it’s over, Gus gives the man a hearty handshake, thanking him. He reaches for his wallet and starts to pull out a five dollar bill. Malcolm beats him to it, dropping a fifty into the case. Gus hurriedly stuffs his five back into his wallet and pulls out a 20 instead. Shawn looks at the musician, pointing to Gus and then himself. “That’s from both of us,” he says, smiling heartily.

“That was something!” Malcolm tells Gus as Gus rejoins his companions.

“Aw, it’s nothing. I don’t even have my proper tap shoes on,” says Gus, but he swipes his thumb across the side of his nose and gives a lopsided grin. They set off back down the street, Gus now with a bounce in his step.

“I almost forgot,” says Shawn, “we need to get some Big Gay Ice Cream. It’s right near here, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t forget,” says Gus.

Malcolm says, “Yes, it’s just a couple of blocks up. But…do you guys want ice cream _now?_ You just finished eating not long ago. You can’t still be hungry.”

Gus and Shawn give each other another look. Gus says, ”What does hunger have to do with it? We’re talking about ice cream,“ and Shawn hums and nods in agreement.

Malcolm feels he shouldn’t be bewildered by their appetites anymore, but he still is. “Okay then, it’s this way.”

******

The trio comes to a corner store with a giant white unicorn painted on the side of the glass window front. Shawn smiles widely when he sees it. “I like it already!” Gus gathers everyone together and takes a selfie of the three of them in front of the unicorn.

Shawn leads the way inside the store, quickly glancing through the flavors. He calls out to the young woman working behind the counter, “Hello. My name is Pow Pow Boogie, and I will have the Mermaid, please. And my friend, The Big Bang Bang, over there,” he points to Gus who’s just now catching up, “…well, you wouldn’t happen to have Vanilla Sky, would you?”

The woman smiles at him, completely missing the reference, “We have a lot of flavors with vanilla ice cream. Or you can just get plain vanilla.”

“Life Extension? Tech support?” Shawn tries.

The ice cream woman looks confused. “I’m sorry?”

“You would be if you knew what you were missing,” Shawn says jovially, “just like David Aames. That’s okay.” He gestures a thumb at Gus, “He’ll have the Salty Pimp,” then shouts over to Malcolm who’s standing by the entrance with his hands in his pockets, “Yo, Wonder Malc, what will it be for you?”

Malcolm hadn’t been considering getting any ice cream until that very moment when a frisson of warmth ran through him at the odd yet endearing nickname. “Uh…” He walks up to them and looks through the flavors just as quickly as Shawn had done. “I’ll have the Unicorn Sparkle Sundae.” He shakes off the feeling and hurries up to the register. “Don’t worry guys I got this.”

“For real?” asks Gus. You already paid for our brunch.”

“Of course! You’re guests in my city. Let me treat you.”

“Aw man, that’s real real of you. This one’s been running up my credit card all week. And by week, I mean the last six years.” He glares in Shawn’s direction.

“Oh Gus, don’t be Javier Bardem’s hairstyle in _No Country for Old Men._ I’ve given you an excellent credit rating, and you choose to focus on the negative. Besides, our Wonder Malc is Richie Rich rich. I don’t think a few cones are going to break him.”

Malcolm smiles at him. “You may not be a real psychic, Shawn, but you’re not wrong.”

* * *

**CHAPTER NOTES / REFERENCES  
  
**

  * “This time let’s be like Humpty Hump and take the Magic Bus."  
“Humpty took the train. The Magic Bus was Robert Daltrey.”  
  
[Flowin' On The D-Line – Digital Underground](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2ix99aqjwg)  
  
[Magic Bus - The Who](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kemCgDfiBFM)  
  
  
  

  * “Okay, the Double Dutch Bus, then. Look! Here it comes now. Do you got your funky bus fare?”  
  
[Double Dutch Bus - Frankie Smith](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fK9hK82r-AM)  
  
  
  

  * “Gus, don’t be the sound Prince makes at the beginning of ‘Kiss.’"  
  
 _Credit for this "Gus, don't be..." line goes to J.M., member of the Get psyched Facebook Group._



  * "I don’t think you could like him better, even if you did sleep together."   
  
[Never Say Never – Romeo Void](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4x0fPZrPV3M)  
  
  
  

  * “Despereaux is only the coolest man in the world!”  
  
 _Is there anyone who doesn't agree with Shawn?  
Pierre Despereux, played by Cary Elwes, appears in several _psych _episodes as a charming, high-class art thief – and another one of Shawn's man crushes._  
  
[Pierre Despereaux (psych wiki)](https://psychusa.fandom.com/wiki/Pierre_Despereaux)  
  
  

  * "He’s a real genius, Shawn.”  
“Hey! What are you trying to say about Val Kilmer?"  
  
 _Val Kilmer: yet another one of Shawn's man crushes._

[Real Genius (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0089886/)  
  
  
  

  * “All I’m saying, Gus, is don’t expect to grow flowers in the desert.”



[In A Big Country - Big Country](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=657TZDHZqj4)  
  
  


  * “And _I’m_ just saying that there ain’t no Coupe DeVille hiding at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box.”  
  
[Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad - Meat Loaf](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k5hWWe-ts2s)  
  
  
  

  * “Look, Gus, I’m trying to tell you that the union of the snake is on the climb.”



[Union Of The Snake - Duran Duran](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6p5Q6_JBes)  
  
  


  * “Luke Hammerhead? 29? That means the crystal on his hand has already started blinking red.”  
“That’s Logan, not Luke.”

[Logan's Run (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0074812/)



  * “Humperdinck. Too bad his boyfriend wasn’t just _‘mostly_ dead.’”  
That’s _Prince_ Humperdinck.”




[Princess Bride "He's Only Mostly Dead" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbE8E1ez97M)  
  
  


  * “What else do we know about our friend Lando? Is he from Cloud City?”  
“That’s Calrissian,” says Gus, “How come you haven’t made a ‘Luke, I am your father’ joke yet?”  
“Search your feelings,” answers Shawn, “you know it to be true.”

[Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back "Meeting Lando Calrissian" clip](https://www.starwars.com/video/ol-smoothie)  
  
[Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back "Search Your Feelings" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9h2w3kcKo3A)  
  
  

  * Hasenpfeffer is our killer.”  
“That’s _Laverne and Shirley,_ ” says Gus.  
  
[Laverne and Shirley (Schlemiel! Schlimazel! Hasenpfeffer Incorporated!)](https://www.huffpost.com/entry/schlemiel-schlimazel-hase_b_8512356)




  * “Let’s not show our cards just yet. We have to know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em.”

[The Gambler - Kenny Rogers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7hx4gdlfamo)  
  
  

  * "Gus was hoping to get closer and closer. Sweeter and sweeter. Deeper and deeper…”




[Deeper And Deeper - Madonna](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJV29ZQIUhs)  
  
  


  * His phone starts blaring out, _I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts..._  
  
[I'm Too Sexy - Right Said Fred](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P5mtclwloEQ)  
  
  
  

  * "Is Lassie begging for us to come home?"  
  
[psych 2: Lassie Come Home](https://www.peacocktv.com/psych-2-lassie-come-home)  
  
  

  * It’s true what they say. Every man’s an actor, every girl is pretty. But don’t worry, I won’t talk to strangers.




[Don't Talk To Strangers - Rick Springfield](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cp42V938eBA)  
  
  


  * "Every movie _ever._ ”




[Taxi Driver (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0075314/)  
  
[The Devil Wears Prada (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0458352/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1)  
  
[The Devil's Advocate (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0118971/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1)  
  
[When Harry Met Sally... (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0098635/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1)  
  
[Tootsie (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0084805/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1)  
  
[Big Trouble in Little China (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0090728/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1)  
  
  


  * “As long as we don’t see _Escape from New York_.”  
“Well, they’re both Kurt Russell, anyway. And I would be Snake.”  
“Why do you get to be Snake? And who does that make me?”  
“I don’t know, Gus. I guess you’d be whoever Harry Dean Stanton was.”  
“Why would I be an old white dude?”



[Escape from New York (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0082340/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1)

  * "There’s a place right down that street on the right-hand side, Minetta Tavern. That’s where _Mickey Blue Eyes_ with Hugh Grant was filmed.”




[Mickey Blue Eyes (Location Details)](http://onthesetofnewyork.com/mickeyblueeyes.html)   
  
  


  * “ _Wolf Creek?_ ” “Have you heard of that?” “Did we see that?” “Is that even a movie?” “It’s definitely not from the ’80s.” “I don’t think there was any ‘ _Wolf Creek_ ’ filmed in New York City.”




[Wolf Creek (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0416315/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1)  
  
  


  * Gus ends up with a high-end, handcrafted leather Artemis Quibble belt for $395.  
 _  
Since I am related to the founder of this company, I thought it would be fun to put this in the story. Check out their belts. They are amazing._




[Artesmas Quibble](http://www.artemas-quibble.com/shop)

  * Shawn buys a couple of packets of grape-flavored Big League Chew.




[Big League Chew (Grape)](https://www.buybigleaguechew.com/collections/all/products/big-league-chew-tray-grape)  
  
  


  * I don’t even have my proper tap shoes on,” says Gus.  
  
 _Dulé Hill tap dancing is definitely something!_




[psych "Tap Dancing" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNTasyrGQyQ)  
  
  


  * "My name is Pow Pow Boogie, and my friend, The Big Bang Bang... Yo, Wonder Malc, what will it be for you?”  
  
 _In addition to The Sugarhill Gang references, the collection this story belongs to on_ Archive of Our Own _is called "Prodigal Son Big Bang 2020." "Prodigal Son Big Bang is a challenge for a team of writer + artist to create 20K story and 1+ art pieces. Finished works will be released the week of October 25-October 31, 2020." Find all the stories by clicking on the link._  
 _  
_[Prodigal Son Big Bang 2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/pson_big_bang_2020)  
  
[The Sugarhill Gang – 8th Wonder](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qB7O6c5Uycw)




[Wonder Mike (The Sugarhill Gang)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wonder_Mike)  
  
  


  * "You wouldn’t happen to have Vanilla Sky, would you? Life Extension? Tech support?”   
“I’m sorry?”  
“You would be if you knew what you were missing, just like David Aames."




[Vanilla Sky (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0259711/)  
  
  


  * _Big Gay Ice Cream flavors: Salty Pimp and Mermaid are flavors that they have on the menu. Unicorn Sparkle Sundae is something I made up. If you want to make a joke regarding the term 'unicorn' in reference to Malcolm, go for it, but again, this story is PG-13._




  * “Oh Gus, don’t be Javier Bardem’s hairstyle in _No Country for Old Men."  
_   
_You will not believe the difference in how this actor's hair changes the way he looks._




[Javier Bardem No Country For Old Men (Google Image Search)](https://www.google.com/search?q=Javier+Bardem+No+Country+For+Old+Men&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwjy8qjfr9PsAhVKWN8KHbsQCfwQ2-cCegQIABAA&oq=Javier+Bardem+No+Country+For+Old+Men&gs_lcp=CgNpbWcQAzIECCMQJzIHCAAQsQMQQzICCAAyAggAMgIIADICCABQvhJYvhJgxBtoAHAAeACAAVGIAVGSAQExmAEAoAEBqgELZ3dzLXdpei1pbWfAAQE&sclient=img&ei=hFaXX_KgKsqw_Qa7oaTgDw&bih=856&biw=1630&rlz=1C5CHFA_enUS911US911&safe=active)

[Javier Bardem (Google Image Search)](https://www.google.com/search?q=Javier+Bardem&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwjpwsbhr9PsAhWLON8KHXLNCBYQ2-cCegQIABAA&oq=Javier+Bardem&gs_lcp=CgNpbWcQAzIECCMQJzIECCMQJzIFCAAQsQMyAggAMgIIADIFCAAQsQMyAggAMgIIADICCAAyAggAUM6lBFjrzAhg8c8IaABwAHgAgAFjiAGfAZIBATKYAQGgAQGqAQtnd3Mtd2l6LWltZ8ABAQ&sclient=img&ei=iVaXX6naFovx_AbymqOwAQ&bih=856&biw=1630&rlz=1C5CHFA_enUS911US911&safe=active)  
  
  


  * "Wonder Malc is Richie Rich rich."  
  
 _Richie Rich was originally a character in a comic from 1953, but the one that Shawn is thinking about is the cartoon from the '80s._

[Richie Rich cartoon, 1980](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1x7HMxWTWOU)





	11. Soup

When Shawn and Gus seem to have had enough of the West Village and some of its surrounding areas, Malcolm invites them back to his loft to discuss details for Tuesday. Shawn insists they take the subway there, and Malcolm is happy to give them pointers on how the system works.

When they arrive at Malcolm’s building, Malcolm leads Shawn and Gus up the stairs, opening the door to his apartment and stepping aside to allow them both to enter ahead of him. He gives them the two-cent tour, which really just consists of him standing inside the entrance and pointing to the few different areas that make up his huge, open-plan apartment, and that can clearly be seen from where they stand anyway. He gestures towards a set of stairs. “That’s an office loft. I don’t use it much.”

“You have a parakeet?” Gus is excited to see the pretty little green and yellow bird, though, while he keeps it to himself, he is not so thrilled about the small, sparse cage.

“That’s Sunshine. She’s friendly if you want to hold her.”

“A bird that poops almost as much as you do, Gus.”

“Shut up, Shawn.” Gus turns to Malcolm. “I had a parakeet when I was a child. One day, she was gone. My parents told me she went to a ‘special bird sanctuary’. I didn’t realize until later that she had died.”

Shawn chimes in, “By ‘later,’ he means last year.”

Addressing Shawn, Gus says, “Did you know that a parakeet and budgie are the same thing? The United States is the only country that calls them ‘parakeets.’ For the rest of the world, they’re ‘budgies.’”

Malcolm nods in appreciation of Gus’s bird knowledge, adding, “Budgerigar in Australia, to be exact.”

Shawn is not as appreciative. “Fascinating,” he comments, giving the bird only a cursory glance. He’s much more interested in the beautiful, expansive space he sees before him. The size of the TV alone makes him want to be Malcolm’s best friend.

Malcolm sees Shawn’s interest and gestures to his dwelling, “Please, make yourselves at home. I need to use the bathroom."

Once the door to the bathroom is closed, Shawn heads straight to the bedroom area and Gus to the kitchen. Shawn sits down on the sparsely made bed, testing out its bounce factor and noting the distinct lack of color or flair in the choice of linens. The bed is perfectly made, almost military style. It appears to be completely utilitarian. Except for… He spots the black straps with their soft wrists cuffs and lifts one up to examine it. “Check it out, Gus. Looks like our boy is into that crazy monkey sex. Do you think Jules would like it if I got some of these for my bed?”

“Those are for night terrors, Shawn. They prevent him from sleepwalking.”

Gus opens the refrigerator, wrinkling his nose at what he finds, “Can we really trust a man who has nothing but seltzer water and stinky cheese in his refrigerator?”

Shawn gets up off the bed and walks over to observe the display cases. “Between those wrist straps and the antique weapons, maybe Lassie is the man for him.” He takes a photo and shoots it off to Carlton with a quick message. Then he joins Gus in the kitchen, spotting a cardholder on the countertop. He picks up a card and reads, “‘I am happy to meet new people and start new friendships.’” He stares at the card and comments with an uncertain, “Huh.” Gus moves to stand next to Shawn and read over his shoulder. Shawn picks up another card, “‘I say Yes to new adventures,’” and then a third, “‘I trust my inner voice.’” Shawn shakes his head and looks at Gus, “Is his inner voice Stuart Smalley?”

“Don’t make fun, Shawn. Positive affirmations can be very helpful for a lot of people.”

“Oh, I’m not making fun. Because doggone it, people like him!”

Shawn starts randomly opening drawers. He finds the drawer with Malcolm’s medications and elbows Gus to take a look. Gus will know what each one is for, of course. Gus glances at the bottles long enough to see the pertinent information. “Stop snooping, Shawn."

“Since when don’t you snoop with me, Gus?"

Malcolm calls out from the bathroom, “I can hear you guys!”

Shawn and Gus look at each other, Gus significantly more concerned that they have been caught out. The two turn around to face the cabinets and away from the bathroom, as if that makes a difference, and begin to argue in loud-whisper mode.

“I told you not to snoop, Shawn.”

“How else am I going to get a read on this guy?”

“Get to know him, like a regular person?”

“Since when do I ever do that?”

Their whispered arguing escalates into slapping at each other’s hands like little girls. All of a sudden, they hear something whiz over their heads, followed by a ‘thunk,’ which effectively stops their antics. They stare at the cabinet in front of them where a small, ancient throwing knife is still vibrating from impact, it’s tip buried in the wood. They both turn and see Malcolm standing there, glaring at them.

Gus is incredulous, “Why the hell did you do that?”

Shawn is impressed, “ _How_ the hell did you do that?”

Malcolm huffs out a frustrated sigh and gives them a humble brag along with a smile, “Two-time silver medalist, axe throwing.”

Shawn mumbles to Gus under his breath, “Silver…”

Gus clicks his tongue at him to behave. “Cool enough for you, Shawn?”

“Despereaux can do that.”

“Despereaux can’t-” Gus starts to argue and then gives a conciliatory huff, “Yeah, okay, of course, Despereaux can do that.”

“Despereaux? Sounds like the name of a pirate,” says Malcolm.

“Coolest pirate ever!” says Shawn.

“He’s not a pirate, Shawn.”

“Actually, he’s kind of like a land pirate, Gus.”

“He _is_ kind of like a land pirate,” Gus agrees.

“So, Malcolm,” says Shawn putting his hand to the side of his head, “Affirmations, weapons, parakeet…my psychic senses are going a bit berserk here.”

Malcolm mimics the hand gesture. “You can drop the act, Shawn. You do realize it’s just the three of us now, right?”

“And that’s the magic number,” announces Shawn, ignoring the sentiment. “The Three Musketeers, The Three Stooges, The Three Amigos, The Three Horsemen of the Apocalypse-“

“There were four Horseman of the Apocalypse,” Malcolm corrects him.

“You know that’s right,” says Gus, offering Malcolm the side of his fist.

Malcolm glances at it for a moment before putting his own fist up to complete the bump that he has seen Shawn and Gus do so many times now.

“Three strikes and you’re out,” says Shawn, his voice taking on a serious tone, lips pulling into a flat line.

Looking between Malcolm and Shawn, Gus is beginning to get nervous.

Malcolm’s ringing phone interrupts the tension. He pulls it from his pocket and glances down with a frown, quickly pressing the button to ignore the call. But he isn’t quick enough for Shawn not to notice the I.D. that pops up on the screen. ‘Claremont Psychiatric.’ That can only be one person. When Malcolm turns back to address Shawn, his chipper energy has been wiped clean, replaced by something sour.

“You’re not that hard to figure out, Shawn,” says Malcolm, rounding on him with surprising hostility. “Somewhere along the way, you decided to do this,” he puts his hand to the side of his head, wiggling his fingers in an exaggerated approximation of Shawn’s psychic vision gesture, “and somebody of importance bought it. After that, you were afraid to come clean, so you just kept up the charade. You’ve probably been doing it for a long time now. There are some people in your life that are closest to you,” he gestures towards Gus, “who know you’re a fake, but most people believe you. And you’re too insecure to set the record straight. You act like a fool to grab everybody's attention. It's the only thing that bolsters your confidence. And your girlfriend – what’s her name? Juliet? – I suspect she believes your little farce. Unfortunately, she’s the one person you wish you could tell, but that’s the one consequence you’re not willing to face.”

Gus gives a long, low whistle, halfway under his breath.

Shawn bites his bottom lip and nods, “Well, look at Mr. Fancy Pants, over here.”

“I am an actual profiler, guys,“ says Malcolm. He points at Shawn. “You could be an excellent profiler if you weren’t so busy _pretending_ to be a psychic.”

Shawn hooks his thumbs into his jean pockets and rocks back on his heels. “How’s about we turn the profile on you, uptown boy.”

“Shawn…” Gus warns.

“No, Gus,” Shawn holds his palm up towards his friend, “he wants to play, I’ll play.”

Gus reluctantly backs down. Malcolm waits, equal parts curious and agitated.

Shawn proceeds with his profile, not bothering to put his hand to his head this time. “You had a lot of friends when you were little. Cute kid. Nice kid. Parents richer than God. Smart. Hair was maybe a little flat, still, but we’ll let that pass. Who _wouldn’t_ want to be friends with you? So it was an extra nasty blow when you lost all of those friends in one fell swoop because everybody, including yourself, found out that your dad kills people. And that wasn’t your fault. At least not at first. But it wasn’t long before you were the one pushing people away, even those who wanted to be close to you. And yet you probably ask your therapist every week why you’re so alone. The pattern continues to this day. You come into work with a big smile on your face, handing out candy and telling jokes. But it’s all a front.” He pauses, a new thought formulating in his brain. “You’re just as fake as I am.”

Malcolm is staring at Shawn, fists balled, lips pressed together. Gus is looking between the two of them, truly distressed. Malcolm’s phone rings. Claremont Psychiatric. Again. This time he answers it, voice low and restrained with irritation.

“Is it urgent? I have friends over.” Pause. “No, not a girlfriend.” Pause. Sigh. “No, I won’t be bringing my _‘little friends’_ over to meet you.” Pause. “No.” Pause. “I’ll have to call you back, Da- Dr. Whitly.” He hangs up, pressing on the screen much harder than necessary.

Shawn smirks at him. “Daddy issues calling? Case and point.” He starts to laugh at his own cleverness when, from out of the blue, he feels a burst of pain against his jaw, and before he realizes what’s happened, he’s on the floor.

“Shawn!” Gus runs over to him.

Shawn gingerly touches the side of his face and looks up at Gus, “Gus, did he just hit me? I think he just hit me.”

“You deserved it, Shawn,” says Gus and then turns to Malcolm, “How dare you hit my best friend!”

Now Malcolm is the one looking distressed. He’s alternately putting his hands up to his head to tug at his hair and then putting his palms out in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Oh god…”

While Malcolm is remorsefully pacing in a circle, Gus helps Shawn to his feet.

“Damn,” says Shawn, still nursing his cheek, “I didn’t know your man could knock dudes out,” he says to Gus.

“He _is_ FBI-trained,” says Gus.

“And we’re only Saturday-morning-cartoon-trained. Guess we now know which one’s more effective." Shawn wiggles his jaw around, experimentally. “Damn, this smarts! It doesn’t feel like it looks like it feels on TV.”

Gus turns to Malcolm to chastise him once again, but the words die on his lips. “Uh, Shawn…” He gives his friend a little shoulder shake to focus his eyes on Malcolm. Malcolm is hunched slightly forward, one arm wrapped protectively around his middle, breath coming in short, controlled gasps. He looks like he’s about to pass out.

“I didn’t think this dude could get any whiter,” says Gus. He tugs at Shawn’s sleeve. “We better help him over to the couch.” They flank Malcolm, each taking an arm, and walk him slowly across the room until he’s able to sink gratefully onto his couch. Malcolm continues with the shallow breaths and leans forward to put his head between his knees.

Shawn and Gus stand in front of him looking down for a moment and then look at each other trying to figure out what to do. Gus says, “One of us needs to take him to the bathroom right now before he vomits.”

“He’s your hero, Gus. You do it.”

“I’m not doing it,” Gus says in his high-pitched voice of protest. “He is not gonna lose his lunch and mess up my good shoes, Shawn.”

“Oh, it won’t be that messy. He has no lunch to lose. Besides, have you seen his fabulous bangs? I can’t be holding back another man’s hair while he vomits. I’ll lose my street cred.”

“You don’t have any street cred, Shawn.”

Malcolm lets out a groan and allows his curled up form to fall sideways onto the couch cushions.

Shawn and Gus watch him with alarm and then redouble their efforts to get the other one to act. They start whisper-arguing to one another without actually using real words. Just a bunch of gestures, tongue clicks, and facial expressions. This brings them to the obvious conclusion. Gus puts his hand out, counting with his fingers while silently mouthing: one, two, three. Then it’s Rock Paper Scissors. Shawn loses. “Two out of three,” he says, determined not to be the loser. Two more times and Shawn loses all three times. _“Dammit!”_ he says, but knows that he is now resigned. Neither one of them is willing to break the sanctity of Rock Paper Scissors.

“Okay, come on, tough guy,” Shawn says gently as he reaches down to take Malcolm’s arm.

Malcolm puts his hand out in a ‘stop’ gesture. “I’m fine, guys. I’m _fine_. I’m not going to vomit. I just feel a little woozy is all.”

Shawn is not at all surprised, once he thinks back over their day. “This wouldn’t happen to be because you’ve been eating sugar all day long and no actual food, would it? Hey Gus, remember when you did that?”

“Oh, I remember.” Gus looks down upon Malcolm, slowly shaking his head. He’s thankful his own overindulgence only led to him passing out on a bench in the middle of the police station. “Too much sugar, probably no sleep, and who knows how all those medications are interacting with one another. He probably has hypoglycemia _and_ hypotension.”

“Stop blinding the poor man with science, Gus. Besides, I’m sure it’s nothing that serious. Probably just a sugar crash coupled with some low blood pressure.”

Gus reaches into his pocket and pulls out something wrapped up in napkins. He unwraps it to show the item to Malcolm. “You can have my sandwich. You need it more than I do.”

“Sandwich?” Malcolm and Shawn both say at the same time.

Shawn says, “I saw you eat your half of the sandwich at the restaurant. I was there. So what’s that?” He points to the pitiful little bundle.

Gus shrugs. “I swiped it from the table next to us."

“You stole food?” asks Shawn.

“I _repurposed_ it. Those people just left it behind. The restaurant would’ve thrown out a perfectly good half sandwich.”

“And you want me to eat somebody’s leftovers?” asks Malcolm, looking even more pale.

Shawn lets out a sigh and shakes his head, “Gus, don’t be a Ford Pinto that’s been rear-ended. You’re basically offering him trash.”

“One man’s trash is another man’s meal,” Gus says defensively.

“If that man is homeless.”

“Suck it, Shawn.”

“You suck it.”

“No, you s-”

“Uh, guys? There’s some orange juice in the fridge,” says Malcolm, still pressed into the couch cushions and clutching his stomach, “Will one of you please get that for me? And a bag of peas in the freezer.”

“Orange juice and peas? You _do_ plan to eat dinner, don’t you?” asks a concerned Gus, repocketing his pilfered fare while Shawn, honoring the outcome of Rock Paper Scissors, retrieves the requested items.

“There’s soup in the pantry. I’ll be fine. The peas are for Shawn’s jaw.”

“Pantry?” asks Gus, “Surely, you mean homemade soup that your mama gave you in the refrigerator.”

“Sadly, my mother doesn’t homemake anything.”

“And don’t call him Shirley,” Shawn calls from the kitchen.

“You plan to eat soup from a _can_ for dinner?”

Malcolm nods a little pathetically.

Gus clicks his tongue in disappointment and shakes his head. “C’mon, son,” he mutters.

Shawn returns, handing Malcolm a glass of orange juice. He wraps the bag of peas in a kitchen towel and presses it gently to his face, wincing.

Gus shakes his head again. “Soup from a can _and_ no proper ice pack? C’mon, son.”

Malcolm looks up at Shawn with pleading eyes, “Shawn, I’m really, _really_ sorry. I can’t believe I hit you like that. I’ve just been on edge recently, and, well…that’s no excuse.” He leans forward on the couch and looks down at his hands wrapped around the glass, thankful they haven’t displayed any tremors, despite his spike in stress. He sips at his juice.

Shawn gives Gus a look and then quickly sits down next to Malcolm, rubbing his palm over Malcolm’s back. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, buddy. I was being a grade A, A-hole. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”

“Well, I shouldn’t have pushed you, either. And I definitely shouldn’t have hit you. It must be nice to have a friend who stands up for you like Gus did tonight.”

Gus takes a seat on the other side of Malcolm. “We might argue about just about everything, but we always have each other’s backs.”

“I can see that,” says Malcolm, his gaze drifting away for a moment in contemplation.

Shawn, looking to steer the conversation away from such touchy-feely stuff, says, “Hey, instead of sitting here with your sad little can of soup like some sad little friend of Satchel Gizmo, why don’t you come have dinner with us?” He gives Malcolm’s shoulder a hearty pat.

“I appreciate the offer, guys, but I’m done for the day. I just want to have my sad little can of soup and try to get an hour or two of sleep. But I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we have dinner tomorrow. You guys can choose the place, and I’m going to see if I can set up a…meeting.”

“Meeting? What kind of meeting?” asks Shawn.

“An hour or two of sleep?” repeats Gus.

Shawn leans around behind Malcolm, putting the back of his hand to the side of his mouth to loud-whisper across to Gus, “I think he means ten to 12 hours of sleep. He’s just using single digits.”

“It’s a surprise,” says Malcolm, straightening up in his seat. “I’ll text you what time, and I’ll come get you wherever you’re at. And sadly, I mean one or two hours of sleep. On a good night I can get five or six, I just have a feeling it’s not going to be a good night.” Seeing the duo’s pained faces at his sleeping habits, he quickly adds, “The juice is helping, though. I feel better already.”

Gus shakes his head. “Mm, mm, mm,” he says wearily. “I hope I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.”

“Why would you not be able to sleep tonight?” asks Shawn.

“I don’t know, Shawn. Maybe I’m a sympathetic insomniac.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing you’re sharing a room with me because I’m going to sleep like the dead.”

That seems to set Gus’s fears at ease. He gives a cavalier shrug. “I hear that.”

“Text us,” says Shawn to Malcolm. “We’re always up for a surprise.”

“I’m more than happy to spend another day with my favorite profiler,” says Gus, as he digs in his pocket to get his phone out. He swipes open his ‘NYC: Must Do’ list and reaches his arm across Malcolm’s front in order to thrust the phone close to Shawn’s face. “Shawn, when this is over, you better promise me we’re going to finally get to see some of New York City’s sights.

“You mean touristy stuff?”

“Yes, I mean touristy stuff. I did not fly 2,536 miles _not_ to see touristy stuff. Promise me, Shawn.”

Shawn puts his hand to his heart. “I swear on Lassie’s sweet, sweet stern bush, we will get to do some touristy stuff before we fly home.”

“ _Lots_ of touristy stuff,” Gus insists.

“Okay, _lots_ of touristy stuff,” agrees Shawn. He claps his hands together and announces loudly, “Shall we talk shop?”

“If you mean come up with a plan, then yes, we should ‘talk ‘shop’,” says Malcolm. “We only have till Tuesday to make sure we get this right.”

“Hush,” says Shawn.

Malcolm stops talking, listening for whatever Shawn may have just heard. As far as he can tell, there are no unusual sounds.

“Keep it down, now.”

“Um…what?” asks a confused Malcolm.

“Voices carry.”

“There’s nobody here but us. What are you worried about?” asks Malcolm.

Gus intervenes. “’Til Tuesday,” he explains.

“Yes, I know. We have till Tuesday.”

Gus and Shawn both give up. “Never mind,” they say in unison.

Malcolm is happy to dismiss whatever nonsense they were getting at. “You two are going to be my eyes and ears. You’ll go into the club ahead of me under the same pretense as before. Whatever you did on Saturday night seemed to work, so do that again. If you danced, dance. If you drank, drink. Just make sure you look like a couple.

“We made out,” says Shawn.

“We did not make out, Shawn,” Gus protests. “We did not make out, Malcolm.”

“Relax. I’m not asking you to kiss. Just stay together and…don’t hit on other guys. And text me if you see anything of interest and _anytime_ somebody uses that door.”

“Sarah Jessica Parker! I just thought of something,” says Shawn. “Gus, you’re going to make me go shopping for another shirt, aren’t you?”

“Well, you can’t very well wear the same one you wore the first night, now, can you?”

“Oh, who is going to know? What with the lighting in that club…”

 _“I’ll_ know. People will think I’m a terrible boyfriend. Letting my man wear the same clubbing shirt two nights in one week.” Gus clicks his tongue in disgust.

“Man, I don’t want to go shopping _again_ ,” Shawn whines. “Not for clothes. I want to go shopping for toys!”

Malcolm suddenly jumps to his feet, leaving his glass on the coffee table. “I think I can help you out there.” He walks to his bedroom and rummages around in the back of his closet, reemerging triumphant and holding up a shirt on a hanger. He drapes the shirt over his bed and opens a dresser drawer to rummage around in there. He pulls another shirt out, loosely folded. He returns to the couch and hands the folded shirt to Gus and the shirt on the hanger to Shawn.

Shawn holds his shirt up by the hanger, pursing his lips at the two-toned, large-swath pattern of maroon and brown, with black collar and cuffs. “Which murder did you solve in this one?”

Malcolm explains, “I’ve never worn it anywhere. A relative gave me that for a gift one year. Too big for me, and honestly, not my style. It looks terrible on me, too. Just washes me right out. Though it’s actually a very nice, well-made shirt. You’re welcome to keep it.”

Gus unfolds his shirt and tilts his head, considering the garment. It’s very pale blue, almost white, with a casual v-dip rather than a collar and long loose sleeves. It’s made of a flowing, filmy fabric that is almost, but not quite, see-through.

Malcolm points to the shirt Gus holds. “Also a little big for me,” and then brings his finger to his bottom lip, “but, that one…I’ll probably want back.” He grimaces a little, hearing how that sounds.

Shawn and Gus hold up their respective shirts against their torsos. They look down at themselves and then at each other with furrowed brows and frowns.

“What time is it, dawg?” asks Shawn.

“It’s time for a switcheroo,” answers Gus.

They each hold out their item and exchange with one another. Holding the new shirts back up against their bodies, they both grin and nod, satisfied that the shirts are now assigned correctly.

Shawn rubs the semi-sheer fabric against his cheek. “It feels like cloud candy.”

“There’s your pirate shirt, Shawn,” says Gus.

Malcolm asks, “Would _Despereaux_ wear that?”

“Actually,” says Shawn, “Despereaux probably _would_ wear this. With a really awesome leather jacket and a dagger around his waist.”

“I think you mean belt,” says Malcolm.

“No, I mean dagger.”

Gus runs his hands over the uniquely patterned button-down. “Feels like a good portion of my paycheck,” he says. “Malcolm, are you sure I can keep this?”

“You’ll be doing me a favor.”

Shawn squeezes the airy article of clothing against his chest. “Gus, even you don’t own sleepwear this expensive.”

“Sleepwear?”

“Oh, come on, Gus. It was stuffed in his dresser drawer. It’s too big for him. He wants it back. Feel how comfortable this thing is.” He holds the shirt out in case Gus wants to give it another feel. “He totally sleeps in it.”

“I totally sleep in it,” confesses Malcolm, “but don’t worry, it’s clean.”

Shawn catches the covetous look on Gus’s face and clutches his shirt back against himself. “No take-backsies! No reverse switcheroo.”

“Well, at least I get to keep mine,” Gus consoles himself.

At that, Malcolm notices Shawn’s pout. “Ya know what,” he says, “you can keep that one, too.” Malcolm is gratified by the big smile that appears on Shawn’s face. Gus shakes his head, annoyed that his one advantage is now gone.

Malcolm turns his attention back to Gus. “Gus, hold that shirt up against you again.” Gus holds the two-toned shirt up, pulling one of the sleeves out to it’s full length with his hand to simulate wearing it.

“Damn, you make that shirt look good!” says Malcolm.

Gus gets a lopsided grin on his face and thumbs the side of his nose. Then he remembers himself and schools his features back to normal. “These are both really nice shirts, Malcolm. They must’ve cost a fortune. Are you positive you’re okay with us keeping them?”

“Positive. I need some new shirts anyway, and they’re not a big deal for me to replace. After all, I am Richie Rich rich.”

* * *

**CHAPTER NOTES / REFERENCES  
  
**

  * [Malcolm's] huge, open-plan apartment.  
  
_If you're not familiar with_ Prodigal Son, _Malcolm lives in a really cool loft apartment. Here are some photo sets showing the exterior of the actual building in NYC and the interior of the set based on the building, as well as a floor plan. (Flip through the slides using the arrows at the top.)  
  
_[Malcolm's Apartment – sonshineandshowers](https://jamboard.google.com/d/1TMtc7eAOxXJPFQ7O2ciB6mEfj9ZYn9wnN2CvWRdgOu8/viewer?f=1)



  * “Is his inner voice Stuart Smalley? Oh, I’m not making fun. Because doggone it, people like me!”  
  
_Here is my favorite, the Michael Jordan addition, particularly fitting because of our earlier Air Jordans reference._  
  
[Daily Affirmations with Stuart Smalley (guest, Michael Jordan) - Saturday Night Live](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xNx_gU57gQ4)  
  
  
  

  * “Despereaux? Sounds like the name of a pirate.”  
  
_Cary Elwes plays The Dread Pirate Roberts on_ Princess Bride _and Despereaux on_ psych.  
  
[Princess Bride "The Story of Dread Pirate Roberts" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aHZGqBVBCRw)



  * “Actually, he’s kind of like a land pirate, Gus.”  
  
[Landshark – Saturday Night Live](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_NS2H55dxI&list=PLONlV9FPbFJVtO2GsynVnFw5ogp8_Cb-2&index=99)  
  
  

  * "You do realize it’s just the three of us now, right?”  
“And that’s the magic number.”  
  
[3 is a Magic Number – Schoolhouse Rock](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aU4pyiB-kq0)  
  
  


  * “How’s about we turn the profile on you, uptown boy.”

[Uptown Girl – Billy Joel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCuMWrfXG4E&list=PLKPBVkcF6t1R0DOfSahv8rMICKfY7FMjp)  
  
  
  

  * “I didn’t know your man could knock dudes out.”  
  
[psych "Knock Dudes Out" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dPgH_sYUvUU)  
  
  

  * “This wouldn’t happen to be because you’ve been eating sugar all day long and no actual food, would it?  
Hey Gus, remember when you did that?”  
“Oh, I remember.” Gus looks down upon Malcolm, slowly shaking his head.  
He’s thankful his own overindulgence only led to him passing out on a bench in the middle of the police station.




_Shawn and Gus are referring to Season 6, Episode 16: Santabarbaratown.  
_  
  


  * “Stop blinding the poor man with science, Gus."  
  
[She Blinded Me With Science - Thomas Dolby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V83JR2IoI8k)  
  
  
  

  * “Gus, don’t be a Ford Pinto that’s been rear-ended.”  
  
_"Ford casually sold cars they knew carried a high risk of bursting into flame on impact...  
Twenty-seven people died in Pinto fires and countless others suffered serious burns._ _"_



[Did Pintos Really Explode in the 1970s?](https://auto.howstuffworks.com/car-driving-safety/auto-safety-testing/did-pintos-really-explode-in-the-1970s.htm)  
  
  


  * “One man’s trash is another man’s meal.”  
“If that man is homeless.”  
“You plan to eat soup from a can for dinner?"  
“Hey, instead of sitting here with your sad little can of soup like some sad little friend of Satchel Gizmo.”

_This sequence is a shout-out to Soup Can Sam and Satchel gizmo.  
__The first clip shows Shawn's first appearance as Soup Can Sam,  
and the second one is a gif after the beard has been cut in half and shared to create Satchel Gizmo.  
  
_[psych "Soup Can Sam" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u4cta-bVs5I)  
  
[psych "Soup Can Sam and Satchel Gizmo" gif](https://tenor.com/view/psych-satchel-gizmo-soup-can-gif-11271450)  
  
  




  * “And don’t call him Shirley.”




[Airplane "Don't Call Me Shirley" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KM2K7sV-K74)  
  
  


  * "I did not fly 2,536 miles not to see touristy stuff.”

_According to airmilescalculator.com, flight distance from Santa Barbara to New York (Santa Barbara Municipal Airport – New York John F. Kennedy International Airport) is 2536 miles / 4082 kilometers / 2204 nautical miles. Estimated flight time is 5 hours 18 minutes._  
  
  

  * “We only have till Tuesday to make sure we get this right.”  
“Hush,” says Shawn.  
“Keep it down, now.”  
“Voices carry.”  
Gus intervenes. “’Til Tuesday.”  
  
[Voices Carry – 'Til Tuesday](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uejh-bHa4To)




  * “Sarah Jessica Parker! I just thought of something.”  
  
_In M. Night Shyamalan's movie,_ The Visit, _the little brother, Tyler, uses celebrity names in place of common exclamations._

[The Visit (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt3567288/)  
  
  

  * Shawn holds his shirt up by the hanger, pursing his lips at the two-toned, large-swath pattern of maroon and brown, with black collar and cuffs.  
  
_I based it off of this shirt, but pretend it's much, much higher quality. (Credit to HoneyMayBee for putting Gus in this shirt.)_  
  
[Gus in His Two-tone Shirt](https://ibb.co/Sv1m3cB)  
  
  


  * Gus unfolds his shirt and tilts his head, considering the garment. It’s very pale blue, almost white, with a casual v-dip rather than a collar and long loose sleeves.  
It’s made of a flowing, filmy fabric that is almost, but not quite, see-through.  
  
_I based it off of this shirt, but pretend it's finer material. (Credit to HoneyMayBee for putting Shawn in this shirt. She's also the one who requested that "Shawn in Malcolm's PJs" be canon.)  
  
_[Shawn in Malcolm's Sleeping Shirt](https://ibb.co/KXzKDcW)  
  
  



  * “What time is it, dawg?”   
“It’s time for a switcheroo.”

[Motherlover (feat. Justin Timberlake) - The Lonely Island [for Saturday Night Live]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X0DeIqJm4vM&feature=kp)  
  
  
  

  * Shawn rubs the semi-sheer fabric against his cheek. “It feels like cloud candy.”  
  
[psych "Angel Baby" clip with Tim Curry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D6lsQg9_yMo)  
  
  

  * “Despereaux probably would wear this. With a really awesome leather jacket and a dagger around his waist.”  
“I think you mean belt,” says Malcolm.  
“No, I mean dagger.”  
  
_From_ psych _Season 6 Episode 10: Indiana Shawn and the Temple of the Kinda Crappy, Rusty Old Dagger._  
_  
_[psych "No I Mean Dagger" (Despereaux) clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=56VpmXryEmU) _  
_





	12. Calzones

Shawn and Gus are in the middle of stuffing their faces with calzones in Little Italy when Malcolm’s text comes through. _Tell me where you are, I’ll come get you. Meeting is at 4._

“He wants to meet us at four, Gus. Does that work for us?”

“Does it give us time to stop at the Milk & Cream Cereal Bar? I _need_ Apple Jacks in my ice cream, Shawn. That’s non-negotiable.”

“Plenty of time for cinnamon toasty, apple tasty. Fruity Pebbles, even, if you so desire.”

“Then 4 works for us. Tell him to meet us there. What do you suppose this meeting is about, Shawn?”

“I assume he’s going to introduce us to Tony Shalhoub.”

“Why would he introduce us to Tony Shalhoub?”

“Why would he _not?_ ”

“We don’t even know if Tony Shalhoub lives in Manhattan.”

Shawn puts his fingers to his head even though Gus can do without the theatrics. “I sense he does _not_ live in Manhattan. A neighboring state, perhaps. I’m seeing a middle-of-nowhere little town that nobody’s heard of. It probably has a weird name that looks and sounds like it should be pronounced one way but it’s pronounced another way.” Shawn lifts one eyebrow for dramatic effect.

Gus rolls his eyes, knowing that Shawn probably knows where Tony Shalhoub actually lives, but he doesn’t give Shawn the satisfaction of asking. Instead, he continues to speculate on the mystery meeting. “Well, if you ask me, I think Malcolm is very impressed with us, and somebody at the NYPD wants to speak with us about joining their team.”

“Oh, Gus, don’t be the letter ‘i’ with a heart on top of it instead of a dot.”

“Why not? It’s not so far-fetched. With the three of us together, we’d be indomitable.”

“We’d be _snowmen?_ ”

“That’s ‘abominable.’”

“Oh, that’s a relief. Well…maybe Malcolm wants to hire _you_.”

“Just me? For what?”

“Because he doesn’t have a Gus, Gus. And everybody needs a Gus. Especially Malcolm. He needs a Gus more than most. You can be his ESG.”

“ESG? I’m not even gonna ask.” Gus lets his eyes wander anywhere but on Shawn.

“Come on, Gus. Ask.”

“Nope.” Gus folds his arms over his chest, resolute.

They stare at each other in complete silence for about a minute. Then Gus lets his arms drop and succumbs with a whine. “All right, fine! What does ESG stand for?”

“Emotional Support Gus."

“Emotional-“ Gus furrows his brow and then takes a moment to think on that. He decides he rather likes the sound of it. “It’s probably not a bad gig. With the bank he’s got going on, if he hired me, I wouldn’t have to worry about trying to support _you_.”

“Exactly, Gus. It’s a one-way situation.”

“A what?”

“You know, where everybody wins.”

“That’s a _win-win_ , situation, Shawn.”

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

“No you haven’t.”

******

Shawn and Gus are just finishing up their cereal-ice cream concoctions when Malcolm shows up. “Have you done anything other than eat today?” he asks them.

“Uh-uh,” they mutter, shaking their heads, mouths full.

“Hopefully not just ice cream?" Malcolm remembers how badly that went for him yesterday.

“Uh-uh,” they mutter, mouths still full. “Calzones,” Shawn manages. “Calzones,” Gus repeats.

Malcolm waits for them to finish the last bits of their dessert and throw the containers in the trash. He hails a cab, and the three of them pile inside. Malcolm gives the driver an address.

“Queens?” asks the cabbie.

“Yes, Queens,” confirms Malcolm.

“We’re going all the way to Queens in a taxi?” says Gus. “Isn’t that an expensive ride?”

“It’s not as bad as you’d think,” says Malcolm, “and it’s easier than bothering with the subway.”

“Hey Gus, do you know what this means? We’ve now tried out every form of New York City transportation – feet, bus, taxi, subway…hey, Malcolm, do they have good sub sandwiches here? Or do you call them _“hoagies?”_

“If you want a New York City favorite, you should try pastrami on rye,” says Malcolm.

“Pastrami on rye? Put that on the list, Gus.”

“Done.” Gus types it into his phone.

“I know it’s important to you,” says Malcolm, “so, I have to ask, where, or _what_ , do you guys want to eat tonight?”

“Do you sometimes suddenly get a craving for Shawarma?” asks Shawn.

 _“I_ sometimes suddenly get a craving for Shawarma,” says Gus. “Malcolm?”

“Can’t say I do. But if you’d like to go to a Mediterranean restaurant tonight…”

“Pizza!” Shawn and Gus shout out in unison.

“Pizza? What happened to the Shawarma craving?”

“We just like saying the word ‘Shawarma.’” Shawn grins. Gus nods his accord.

Malcolm gives a little shake of his head, half amused and half exasperated. “And didn’t you just have calzones? It’s basically just a pizza turnover.”

“I beg to differ,” says Shawn. “If the calzone and the pizza were exactly the same thing, then those two different items wouldn’t exist, now, would they?”

“He’s correct. The calzone and the pizza are closely related – same genus if you will – but completely different species. It would be like saying the tiger and the lion are the same.”

“Or like saying the brine shrimp and the sea monkey are the same,” says Shawn.

“Those _are_ the same,” Malcolm and Gus both respond.

“Really?”

Gus explains to Shawn, “It’s a tiny little crustacean that provides food for both aquarium fish _and_ the largest whales in the world.”

Shawn looks away and says softly to himself, “You mean there isn’t a monkey that lives in the sea? That’s disappointing.”

“Now that we’ve established that a calzone and a pizza are _not_ the same thing…Shawn and I keep hearing about a New York slice. We would like to try this New York slice for ourselves. If what we’ve heard is true, we just can’t get a crust like that in Santa Barbara.”

“You two really take your food seriously.”

“You know that’s right,” says Gus and gives Shawn a fist bump.

“Well, that’s easy,” says Malcolm. “There’s pizza on pretty much every block.”

Shawn and Gus give each other a look.

“What now?”

“Malcolm,” says Shawn, “we would like to go back to the pizza place that we saw close to the café we were in the other night.”

“In the Village? Why there? We can get great pizza right here in Queens. Or back in my neighborhood.”

Shawn and Gus give each other another look.

Malcolm waits patiently for the inevitable explanation.

Finally, Gus says, “There’s a homemade pie place next door.”

“Ah,” says Malcolm with a resigned look of understanding, “gotcha.”

******

The taxi pulls up to a well-cared-for brick duplex with potted chrysanthemums flanking the doorstep and a welcome mat with a flower motif.

“Is this where Tony Shalhoub lives now?” asks Shawn.

Malcolm is confused. “Tony Shalhoub? Uh, I don’t know who that is, but, no. This is where Rochelle Goldberg lives. She’s a friend of Gil’s deceased wife. I’ve known her since I was a child. I grew up in New York City, so I know a fake psychic when I see one. I wanted you two to experience the real deal. She’s the real deal."

“Where is the sign that says ‘palm readings – $5?’ And the picture of the hand with the eye in the center?”

“That’s for the fake psychics,” says Malcolm, entirely unsurprised at Shawn’s cliché notion. “If you see one of those signs, keep walking.”

Malcolm pays the driver and the three get out of the car and follow Malcolm to the front door. Malcolm hits the buzzer, and within seconds, the door opens. An older woman steps out. She’s dressed in a casual, but flattering, cobalt blue blouse and comfortable linen pants, her long gray hair loosely held back by a clip.

“Definitely not Tony Shalhoub,” Shawn says quietly to Gus.

“You know that’s right,” Gus whispers back.

She gives Malcolm a warm smile and opens her arms to lavish him with an extended hug. “Malcolm, honey! It’s been such a long time. You really must visit more often.” She turns to look at Shawn and Gus. “These must be the friends you told me about.” She appraises the two new faces and seems to find them suitable, nodding at Malcolm’s introductions, and moving aside to invite everybody into her home.

As soon as he steps inside, Shawn is already using his keen eye to take in his surroundings. They enter through a small foyer, fresh flowers sitting on a side table, soaking in the rays from the front window. They continue to a galley kitchen, decorated in tiny little daisies and bees. There are white, lace curtains hanging over the kitchen sink and a dish towel, adorned with bees, draped over the oven handle. Her refrigerator door is cluttered with photographs of who he assumes must be her grandchildren, the photos held up by colorful little fruit-themed magnets: a banana, a watermelon, a pineapple, a blueberry.

Gus stops by the stove, eyes lightly closed, sniffing the air.

“I smell it, too, buddy,” says Shawn. “Freshly baked pecan pie?” he asks, hopeful.

Gus shakes his head, giving a few more robust sniffs. “Not pie,” he says. “My guess is cookies. Pecan cookies.”

“That’s impressive, young man,” says Rochelle. “Are you psychic, too?” She throws Malcolm a wink.

“He’s the psychic one,” replies Gus, pointing to Shawn.

“Come on guys,“ says Malcolm, “I thought we weren’t going to do that anymore. Not when it’s just us.”

“You know what they say about ‘old habits–,’” says Shawn, “old habits start out fantastic, but then have four sequels that pretty much suck.”

Rochelle politely ignores the topic, asking her guests, “Would you like to try one?”

Shawn and Gus are quick to show their enthusiasm.

“Is Mister Potter a fool for butterbeer?”

“Does a dingo want to eat babies?”

“Does Scooby Doo want a Scooby Snack?”

“Does a zombie want to eat brains?”

The woman laughs at them, eyes twinkling, and lifts the tin foil off of a tray sitting on the counter. It’s full of golf-ball sized spheres covered in powdered sugar. She offers the tray to each man, in turn. Shawn and Gus happily reach for a cookie. Gus takes a bite and groans. “This is heavenly. What are these?”

“Snowballs,” says Rochelle. “A simple recipe using flour and crushed pecan. But you can use any type of nut, really. This is the first time I’ve tried pecan. I usually use walnuts.”

When the tray is extended to Malcolm, he holds his hand up, smiling and shaking his head slightly. “I’m trying to go easy on the sweets today, but I’ll take his word that they are ‘heavenly.’ I’m familiar with your baking.”

“Snowballs?” says Shawn. “That’s a cute name.”

“They do look like perfect little bite-sized, melt-in-your-mouth snowballs.” Gus turns the remaining half of his cookie in his hand before popping it into his mouth.

Rochelle covers the tray again with the foil and leads her guests on through the kitchen into a modest dining room. There’s a small rectangular table with a narrow lace runner down the middle that matches the kitchen curtains. On top of the runner is another vase of flowers, and a salt-and-pepper shaker set with the bumblebee pattern of black and yellow horizontal stripes. The chairs feature light blue cushions with little white daisies. On the table, in front of one of the chairs, is a large black mat printed with a picture of a starry night sky. Sitting on top of the mat is what looks like a set of playing cards, face down.

Shawn eyes the deck, curiously. The black and white backs feature a busy, stylized design of a spider gripping a moth. The spider’s body is a suit of spades icon with a smaller club icon decorating the center. The moth’s body is a heart. Both insects are framed by a diamond. “Are you reading our cards?” asks Shawn, “Where’s your crystal ball?”

“Crystal ball?” The woman peers at him for a moment, before registering what he’s asking. “Oh! Honey, not every psychic uses a crystal ball. Although, some of them do. It’s called ‘scrying.’ It’s not my thing, though. I prefer these cards. This is _The Key to the Kingdom_ deck.

“I think you mean _Tarot_ ,” says Shawn, proudly pronouncing it with an emphasis on the second syllable.

“No, I mean _Key to the Kingdom_. There are many different card systems, not just Tarot, which is the most well-known. But I do have a Tarot deck. I just don’t use it very often. It’s on the bookshelf over there.” She points to the doorway leading to a living room area. “Is anybody interested in tea?”

Malcolm holds up his index finger. “Tea sounds wonderful, Ro. Thank you.”

Shawn and Gus murmur their interest and Shawn reaches over to brush down Gus’s collar.

Gus slaps his hand away. “What are you doing? Get off me.”

“You have a little powdered sugar…”

“I do? Did you get it?”

Shawn brushes a few more times and then nods.

“Please make yourselves at home. I’ll go fix some tea,” says Rochelle, and goes back into the kitchen.

Shawn takes that as an invitation to wander into the living room, Gus following. Malcolm follows Rochelle to see what he can help her with.

“So, how are things in Precinct 16 these days, Malcolm?” Rochelle asks as she pulls the tea accoutrements out of a cupboard.

“You mean, how are things with Gil these days?” Malcolm guesses, with eyebrows raised.

“There wasn’t much that ever got past you, was there?”

“Considering that you were a friend of Jackie’s, the reason for your curiosity is easy to place.” He shrugs.

“You have me there. So, how is he?” Rochelle busies herself with finding four matching cups and saucers while she waits for Malcolm’s answer.

“He’s good, Ro. Work keeps him pretty busy these days.” Malcolm reconsiders his statement. “ _I_ keep him pretty busy these days.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” Rochelle laughs. “Is he still bouncing around in that apartment by himself?”

“Yeah, and he’s pretty comfortable there.” Malcolm shifts his weight as he debates whether to say something else. Rochelle moves slowly, giving him the time he needs to decide whether she needs to know it. He takes a deep breath and admits, “He’s still not over Jackie.”

“Oh, I know, honey, Jackie was a beautiful soul. I miss her all the time.” Rochelle places a hand on Malcolm’s upper arm, stroking gently.

“I miss her, too,” Malcolm replies quietly. Then, just as soon as the moment arrives, it’s gone, his expression of grief quickly replaced by one of mischief. “What do you make of my friends?”

Rochelle takes a few backwards steps out of the kitchen and leans to sneak a peek at her guests, who are on their feet and poking around the adjacent space. “I think we’re going to be in for a bit of fun.”

In the living room, Shawn takes in the new decor. It’s darker in here than the other rooms but still has the same lived-in, homey feel. Lots of family photos on the walls and bookshelf. Books about gardening, cooking, and baking. He has deduced Mrs. Goldberg to be the typical sweet grandmother who spoils her grandchildren, bakes cookies in her spare time, and reads mostly fantasy fiction with a touch of the macabre. Her bookshelf houses authors Anne McCaffrey, Ann Rice, and VC Andrews. She has an entire shelf of original Nancy Drew hardbacks.

Gus is also interested in the contents of the bookshelf. He notices the Tarot deck, displayed slightly away from the books, and reaches for it, intending only to look at the cover but pulling his hand back quickly when he’s startled by Shawn’s sudden outburst.

“It’s evil! Don’t touch it!” Shawn says in his best British-kid accent.

Rochelle peaks her head around the doorway to see what the fuss is about. “You’re welcome to touch it, and it’s not evil,” she remarks, relieved that Shawn’s alarming tone doesn’t match what’s actually happening.

“You mean you don’t care if we get our energy all over your cards?" asks Gus. “I’ve heard touching somebody else’s cards is a big spiritual no-no.”

Rochelle sighs. “Some people do feel that way. But frankly, I think it’s ridiculous. Energy is easy enough to clear. Now, if you spill your tea on them or drop them in the toilet, that’s not so easy to fix. You’re welcome to open the box and look at the cards.”

Shawn makes a show of sniffing the air. “I don’t smell any incense. Aren’t you supposed to be burning incense?”

“I’m not sure why I would burn incense,” says Rochelle. “The smoke irritates my eyes.”

“And what about the gobs of jewelry? The scarves and, you know, flowy things?”

“Flowy things?” she asks, confused.

Malcolm appears behind her at the entrance, arms folded over his chest, rolling his eyes at Shawn.

Gus picks up the Tarot deck, taking off the cover to look through the cards. Shawn notices a blue rock sitting close to where the deck was on the shelf. “Aha!” he exclaims, “A crystal!”

“That’s aquamarine. It’s supposed to help with communication, but frankly, I just like the color.”

“I knew there had to be _something_ psychic-y around here.”

“Honey, you watch a lot of movies, don’t you?”

Shawn points at her dramatically, “You must be psychic!” he says.

They all hear the whistle of the teakettle, and Rochelle and Malcolm disappear once again into the kitchen. Gus carefully replaces the cards inside the box and sets them back on the shelf. He and Shawn go back into the dining room and take a seat at the table next to each other, leaving Malcolm and Rochelle to sit across from them.

When everybody is seated and the tea has been poured, Rochelle picks up _The Key to the Kingdom_ deck and starts to shuffle the cards, idly. Shawn takes note that she doesn’t shuffle it like a normal playing deck, but instead, she holds the deck on its side in one hand, separates a group of cards from the stack with the other hand, and lets them drop gently between the cards in the larger stack. He supposes this is the best way to preserve them from wear.

“Do you have a specific question you’d like to ask?” Rochelle asks them.

“When am I going to fall in love?” asks Gus.

That earns him a slap on the upper arm from Shawn. “That’s a stupid question.”

“Why is that a stupid question?”

“Because. We’re in New York City. On vacation. We should ask something relevant to where we are now. You can worry about your love life later.”

“It’s not a stupid question,” says Rochelle. “A lot of people ask that. I’m happy to pull a card on that question if you’d like.”

“Nah, that’s okay,” says Gus, embarrassed to pursue that avenue after his friend’s reaction. “What do _you_ think we should ask, Shawn?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How about… Oh, this is harder than I thought! I can’t even think of a question. Gus, why can’t I think of a question?”

“Would you like me to pull a general card? It doesn’t have to be a specific question.”

Shawn and Gus both nod. Rochelle finishes shuffling the deck, fans the cards, and holds them out, asking the men to choose just one card. Gus reaches his hand out, but Shawn slaps it.

“I can pull the card, Shawn,” says Gus, annoyed.

“I want to pull the card,” Shawn whines.

“Suck it, Shawn.”

Without a word, Malcolm reaches over and pulls a card for them, leaving the pair open-mouthed at his audacity. Malcolm lays the card facedown on the starry black mat. He leans back in his seat, satisfied with his action and shaking his head at them. “You two are incorrigible,” he says, but his tone is playful.

Shawn leans over to Gus. “Tell Malcolm to stop making up words.”

The four of them look expectantly at the single card laying face down amidst a galaxy of stars. Finally, Rochelle points to the card with an open palm. “Shawn, would you like to do the honors?”

_I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts..._

Rochelle jumps a little in her seat, pulling her hand back, startled by the noise. “What was that?”

“His phone,” Malcolm and Gus reply in unison.

Shawn holds up a finger, “Pardon me. I won’t be a minute,“ he says and answers the phone.

“Jules!… I miss you, too… We’re having a splendid time! In fact, Malcolm has invited us to the home of an old friend of his…”

Gus kicks Shawn under the table at the word ‘old.’

“A long-time friend of his. We’re sitting at her kitchen table now. I’m doing a psychic reading for her.”

Malcolm falls forward in his chair, knocking his forehead gently against the tabletop to express his frustration. Then he sits up and says quietly to Rochelle, “This is what I’ve been dealing with all weekend.”

She says quietly back, “Oh, he’s just playing. They’re both adorable. I’m awfully fond of them.”

When Shawn hangs up, Rochelle comments on his phone cover: ’psych’ written in white text on a dark lime green background.

“That’s the name of our psychic detective company,” says Gus, proudly. “That’s our logo.”

“Get it?” asks Malcolm, “Psych. Because they’re not real.”

“Clever,” says Rochelle with a mirthful smile.

Shawn presses his lips together and narrows his eyes at Malcolm, but opts not to say anything.

Rochelle continues, “From what Malcolm tells me, you have remarkable observation skills. That’s just as valuable, and sometimes more so, than being outright psychic.”

Not being good at the ‘real stuff,’ Shawn isn’t quite sure how to respond to this sentiment. Instead, he dismisses it with a wave of his hand toward the card on the table. “We’re here to see how a ‘ _real_ ,’” he uses air quotes, “psychic does their thing. Let’s proceed with the reading, shall we?”

Gus reaches to turn the card over while giving Shawn a small shake of his head along with a slightly disgusted look.

When the card is revealed, they all stare down at it. Gus frowns. “That doesn’t look good.”

Shawn says, “It’s a giant underwater snail!”

“It’s an _octopus_ , Shawn,” says Gus.

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

“The eight of spades,” Rochelle states.

The card is an ominous-looking eight of spades. It features a black octopus with red eyes. In each of its eight tentacles, the octopus grasps a spear, tipped with a spade. The tentacles are wrapped around each other as well as the spears.

Rochelle dives into the reading. “Eight of spades is giving you advance warning regarding a situation that seems to be getting confused from its original intent.” She pauses, noticing that Gus looks positively terrified. “Oh, honey, think of this as a good thing. The fact that you came here today, that you’re getting this advance notice, this will help the two of you to overcome whatever the situation is. It seems that something you’ve been waiting for is going to happen sooner than you anticipated, so be prepared. Amidst all the confusion shown in those tangled tentacles, remember that you have resources. See all the spears? You may be facing a battle, but you have what you need to win it. Friends are resources, too. Keep that in mind.”

Gus gives a dismissive ’hmph.’ “Maybe we should try a specific question,” he says. “Am I going to be able to cross anything off of my ‘New York City Must Do’ list before our vacation is over?”

Rochelle puts the octopus card back in with the others and begins shuffling again while repeating Gus’s question. Then she fans the cards out in her hand and holds them out for Gus to choose one.

He pulls out a card and sets it face down on the mat. Fingers still on the card, he looks up at Rochelle. She gives him a small nod, and he flips the card over. It’s the six of hearts.

Gus settles against the back of the chair, smiling. “Now, that’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Looks like you _are_ going to fall in love,” says Shawn.

The card features six little pastel circles overset with hearts and arranged in three rows going down the card. Shawn and Gus immediately recognize them as Sweethearts, the heart-shaped Valentine candies the students used to exchange in elementary school. Just like the candies, these have short sayings on them: ‘HUG ME,’ ‘MY PAL.’

“I don’t think this is about romantic love,” says Rochelle. Gus slumps a little. “This is about something very sweet that makes your heart feel good. A genuine gift of friendship. An offering of some type. To answer your question, yes, you will get to check off something on your list that’s very important to you.”

“I hear that!” says Gus, smiling again.

They run through a few more readings, keeping their questions on the lighter side. Malcolm asks a few questions of his own but is surprised to find that Rochelle laughs at them and answers without consulting the cards. Shawn figures she knows him so well, she doesn't need the cards to know what to say to him. When the tea is gone and the readings have drawn to a natural close, Rochelle asks Shawn and Gus if they’d like to take some of the snowball cookies back with them. To nobody’s surprise, they accept her offer enthusiastically.

Outside on the porch, Malcolm says, “Thank you again for this favor, Ro. It’s always nice to see you. And I’ll tell Gil to give you a call.”

Rochelle squeezes him tight in a parting hug, “Wonderful to see you, too, honey. You can bring your handsome young friends around any time.” Then she turns to the other two and gives each just as big a hug, wishing them a wonderful rest of their week in New York and a safe flight home. She points to the paper bag full of cookies that Gus is holding, “Do yourselves a favor and don’t eat them all in the taxi back. I have a feeling you’re going to want them later.”

As soon as the trio is snug inside the back of a cab and headed toward the pizza joint of Shawn and Gus’s choosing, Shawn grabs the bag of cookies out of Gus’s hands and reaches inside.

“Shawn! She told us not to.”

“She told us not to eat _all_ of them. She didn’t say we couldn’t have _any_. Shawn pops an entire cookie into his mouth and holds the bag out towards Malcolm. “Cookie?” he asks, but with his mouth full, it comes out sounding more like ‘Ookah?’

Malcolm waves the bag away. “No thank you, guys. Seriously. No sweets for me tonight.” He folds a hand over his stomach to remind them why he’s abstaining.

Gus looks appalled. “Surely, you don’t mean you’re not going to partake with us in homemade pie after dinner tonight?”

“Unfortunately not,” says Malcolm, giving him a strained smile.

“That’s too bad, but we understand,” says Shawn looking at Malcolm on his right. Then he turns to Gus on his left, “And stop calling him ‘Shirley.’”

Shawn holds the paper bag out for Gus, and Gus snatches the whole thing from him, placing it to his left side, out of Shawn’s reach. “No more, Shawn. The psychic told us not to, and I’m going to listen to her.”

Shawn makes a raspberry sound with his lips. “Gus, don’t be a Weeble that doesn’t wobble. What does an old woman know?”

“Well, I’m not trying to mess with a psychic, Shawn. She might put a curse on us.”

Malcolm throws his hands in the air in a moment of frustration and leans forward in his seat so they can both hear him very clearly. “That’s only for _fake_ psychics. _Real_ ones don’t put curses on people.”  
  
  


* * *

**CHAPTER NOTES / REFERENCES  
  
**

  * “Does it give us time to stop at the Milk & Cream Cereal Bar?" _(Shawn and Gus visit the Mott Street location.)_  
  
[Milk & Cream Cereal Bar](https://www.milkandcreambar.com/)  
  
  

  * "I need Apple Jacks in my ice cream, Shawn."  
“Plenty of time for cinnamon toasty, apple tasty."  
  
[Apple Jacks Cereal commercial, 1980s](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jC2596eD0Eg)  
  
[Shawn in his Apple Jack's T-shirt](https://ibb.co/ccf9m7Q)  
  
  


  * “I assume he’s going to introduce us to Tony Shalhoub.”  
  
_Tony Shalhoub played Monk on the show by the same title. Like_ psych _,_ Monk _is also a comedy crime series.  
The two shows aired back to back on the USA Network for years. In the series finale of _psych _, there is a subtle reference to_ Monk _.  
Also: "Monk doesn't believe in psychics." (A direct line from the show.)_  
  
[Monk Intro](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_IOsLYVKkY)  
  
  


  * “I sense he does not live in Manhattan. A neighboring state, perhaps.  
I’m seeing a middle-of-nowhere little town that nobody’s heard of.  
It probably has a weird name that looks and sounds like it should be pronounced one way but it’s pronounced another way.”  
Gus rolls his eyes, knowing that Shawn probably knows where Tony Shalhoub actually lives.  
  
_Tony Shalhoub actually used to live (as far as I know and if memory serves) in a very, very small town, in northern Pennsylvania, USA above Scranton, called Harford._ Not _Hartford (which it sounds and looks like it should be, right?), but_ Harford.   
  
_  
_
  * "With the three of us together, we’d be indomitable.”  
“We’d be snowmen?”  
“That’s ‘abominable.’”  
  
_There's a fantasy-horror film from 1957 called The Abominable Snowman,_  
_but you know as well as I do that Shawn and Gus are talking about the animated Christmas special from the 1980s._  
  
[Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer "The Abominable Snowman" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nyR5Vu54w4)  
  
  


  * “Do you sometimes suddenly get a craving for Shawarma?”  
  
_Some of the food references in this chapter were inspired by other participants in this Big Bang challenge._  
_The line above is a direct quote from IllestRin.  
  
  
  
_
  * "The calzone and the pizza are closely related – same genus if you will – but completely different species.  
It would be like saying the tiger and the lion are the same.”  
  
_The tiger and the lion are both of the genus Panthera.  
  
  
  
_
  * “Or like saying the brine shrimp and the sea monkey are the same.”  
“You mean there isn’t a monkey that lives in the sea? That’s disappointing.”  
  
_Does anyone remember this great 'pet' from the 1970s and '80s? I had them. Did you?  
  
Shawn wasn't the only one who was disappointed –  
"The product was a huge success, despite the fact that the Sea-Monkeys — in reality, simply brine shrimp —  
disappointed millions of kids by not looking even remotely like the characters on the product package."_  
  
[Amazing Live Sea Monkeys](https://clickamericana.com/toys-and-games/amazing-live-sea-monkeys-1978)  
  
  
  

  * "Shawn and I keep hearing about a New York slice. We would like to try this New York slice for ourselves.  
If what we’ve heard is true, we just can’t get a crust like that in Santa Barbara.”  
  
[What Makes New York Pizza Special?](https://blog.slicelife.com/what-makes-new-york-pizza-special/#:~:text=The%20hallmarks%20of%20a%20New,cheese%2C%20not%20overwhelmed%20by%20toppings.)  
  
  
  

  * “This is where Rochelle Goldberg lives.  
I grew up in New York City, so I know a fake psychic when I see one.  
I wanted you two to experience the real deal. She’s the real deal."  
  
_I gave the psychic the name ‘Rochelle Goldberg’ as a mashup of two people._  
_The last name is for Whoopi Goldberg and the role she played as a medium in the movie,_ Ghost.  
  
[Ghost "Oda Mae Demands Respect" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oAb2_-uv41Y)  
  
  
_The first name is the name of the mother of a dear friend of mine._  
_This character is loosely based on her mother, who is the 'the real deal,' considered one of the foremost psychics  
(highly recommended by famous ghost hunter, Hans Holzer) in New York City back in the day.  
  
  
  
_
  * Her refrigerator door is cluttered with photographs held up by colorful little fruit-themed magnets: a banana, a watermelon, a pineapple, a blueberry. _ **  
  
Spot the Pineapple! **And, yes, this is also a reference to The Blueberry. **  
  
  
  
**_
  * “You know what they say about ‘old habits–,’ old habits start out fantastic, but then have four sequels that pretty much suck.”  
_  
Yeah, that's right, it's another_ Die Hard _series reference.  
  
  
_
  * “Is Mister Potter a fool for butterbeer?”  
  
[Butterbeer, The Harry Potter Compendium ](https://harry-potter-compendium.fandom.com/wiki/Butterbeer)  
  
[Harry Potter’s Butterbeer Recipe (pipandebby)](https://pipandebby.com/pip-ebby/harry-potters-butterbeer-recipe/)  
  
  


  * “Does a dingo want to eat babies?”  
  
_"Dingo ate my baby" became a whole_ thing _. Here's the story from Wikipedia, the movie, and a Seinfeld spoof._  
  
[Dingo Ate My Baby (wiki)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dingo_ate_my_baby)  
  
[A Cry In The Dark (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0094924/)  
  
[Seinfeld "Dingo Ate Your Baby" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=72KhHephedg)  
  
  


  * “Does Scooby Doo want a Scooby Snack?”  
  
Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! _is an American animated mystery comedy cartoon produced by Hanna-Barbera._  
  
[Scooby-Doo! "Scooby Snack Motivation" compilation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILszaohFToM)




  * "This is The Key to the Kingdom deck."  
The black and white backs feature a busy, stylized design of a spider gripping a moth.  
The spider’s body is a suit of spades icon with a smaller club icon decorating the center.  
The moth’s body is a heart. Both insects are framed by a diamond.  
  
[The Key to the Kingdom: Box and Back of Cards](https://ibb.co/n77shrX)  
  
  


  * “It’s evil! Don’t touch it!” Shawn says in his best British-kid accent.  
  
[Time Bandits "It's Evil, Don't Touch It!" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QKGbguoildA)  
  
  

  * Shawn notices a blue rock. “Aha!” he exclaims, “A crystal!”  
“That’s aquamarine. It’s supposed to help with communication, but frankly, I just like the color.”  
  
_I wanted the stone that Shawn notices to be his birthstone. Shawn is an Aries (March 24, 1977), and while their main birthstone is a diamond,_  
_most people, even_ real _psychics, don’t have a big hunk of diamond just sitting around on a bookshelf._  
_There are several secondary birthstones for Aries, including aquamarine, which seemed like a good fit since it’s pretty, and it helps with communication.  
  
_[Aries](http://www.birthdaygems.org/birthstone-zodiac-signs/aries.htm)  
  
[Aquamarine Crystals](https://www.healing-crystals-for-you.com/aquamarine.html)  
  
  


  * Rochelle comments on his phone cover: ’psych’ written in white text on a dark lime green background.  
  
_If you want one just like it, they sell these on Amazon. Here is Shawn with his._  
  
[Shawn's Phone Case](https://ibb.co/0Zv1WhP)  
  
  
  

  * Not being good at the ‘real stuff,’ Shawn isn’t quite sure how to respond.  
  
_Shawn tells us in the series finale: “I just suck at the real stuff.”  
  
  
_
  * “It’s a giant underwater snail!”  
“It’s an octopus, Shawn.”  
  
_Both the snail and the octopus belong to the Phylum: Mollusca.  
  
  
_

  * The card is an ominous-looking eight of spades. It features a black octopus with red eyes. In each of its eight tentacles,  
the octopus grasps a spear, tipped with a spade. The tentacles are wrapped around each other as well as the spears.  
  
It’s the six of hearts.  
The card features six little pastel circles overset with hearts and arranged in three rows going down the card.  
Shawn and Gus immediately recognize them as Sweethearts, the heart-shaped Valentine candies the students used to exchange  
in elementary school. Just like the candies, these have short sayings on them: ‘HUG ME,’ ‘MY PAL.’ _  
_  
[The Key to the Kingdom: 8 of Spades and 6 of Hearts](https://ibb.co/4Pmvc9L)  
  
[Sweethearts](https://www.spanglercandy.com/our-brands/sweethearts)  
  
  

  * “Gus, don’t be a Weeble that doesn’t wobble.”  
  
_Credit for this "Gus, don't be..." line goes to ‘Co-Creative Genius’ from the Get psyched Facebook Group.  
  
_[Playskool Weebles House commercial, 1980s](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Mcs18VZ2wo)





	13. Cookies

The three paper plates, each holding a giant ‘New York Slice,’ fight for space on the small table.

“I’ve never seen anything so big in my life!” says Gus, flexing his shoulders in preparation for the experience of consuming such a monster.

“That’s what she said,” says Shawn.

Malcolm wrinkles his nose at the off-color remark.

Shawn studies Malcolm’s choice of Pizza Bianca. “Does it even count as pizza?”

“There’s no toppings!” says Gus.

“I told you, most food makes me sick. Look, I’ve tried those folded pizzas before – the ones you had for lunch – it’s just too much grease for me to handle. And tomato sauce-” Malcolm grimaces to indicate the effect tomato sauce might have on him. “White pizza is my best bet. I hope you won’t be too upset if I don’t finish it all.”

“I thought we talked about this,” says Gus. “The calzone is _not_ a folded pizza or a pizza turnover.”

“Or a monkey that lives in the sea,” says Shawn.

Gus continues, “And while I respect and sympathize with your stomach issues – _damn, boy!_ – I just feel _bad_ for you! Pizza without tomato sauce? If you wanted to eat warm cardboard we could have done that at your place. What a waste of such tasty dough,” Gus laments.

“No need to feel bad for me, Gus. I’ve managed to make it this far in life without tomato sauce.”

Gus shrugs it off and picks up his pizza by the crust, opening his mouth wide, a look of happy anticipation on his face. Malcolm lets out a burst of laughter when the entire front part of the pizza inevitably flops over, littering the plate with a few loose pieces of sausage and mushroom and leaving a confused Gus with nothing before him to bite into.

“Let me show you,” says Malcolm. He picks up his tomato-less slice, pressing his index finger firmly into the center of the crust while using the rest of his fingers to press the crust together from each side. Shawn and Gus watch in amazement as Malcolm folds his pizza in such a way that the tip stays perfectly horizontal, just waiting to be bitten into.

The two are obviously impressed by this feat and quick to imitate it. Both of them take a first bite out of their pizzas and sigh in satisfaction at the perfect flavor concoction. It doesn’t take long before they’ve polished off their slices. Malcolm’s slice remains half-eaten, laying on the plate.

“You aren’t going to finish the rest of yours?” asks Gus.

“Nope. That’s it for me,” says Malcolm.

“Then you don’t mind if I finish yours for you?”

Malcolm smirks. “If you don't mind eating warm cardboard.”

By way of reply, Gus picks up the remainder of Malcolm’s slice and takes a giant bite.

******

Shawn leans back in his chair to give his bloated stomach some space. He’s already thinking of the much-anticipated homemade pie that’s next on their agenda, and he’s certain Gus is thinking the same. Yawning as he stretches, his eyes cast themselves over to the club across the road. There had been zero activity when they had arrived, as it's far too early for the place to be open, but now there is an SUV pulling up to the side entrance in the alleyway. The door to the club opens, and he spies Luke Hammerschmidt, with folded arms, waiting for the car to stop. It's the same SUV he saw before.

"Guys, I think something's happening at the club."

"What makes you say that?" Gus asks.

"Because Hammerstein is about to meet with the dealers from Saturday." Shawn nods in the direction of the window.

Malcolm and Gus observe as Hammerschmidt welcomes the man with the gold chain and his muscle-bound sidekick. The three men disappear into the club through the side door leading to the basement.

Gus leans in, whispering excitedly, "This has to be what the psychic was talking about. Something we're waiting for will happen sooner than expected? It's the drug deal!"

"No way, Gus. There’s no way she could’ve predicted this. Ridiculous of you to suggest such a thing!" Shawn argues.

"I think Gus may be right, psychic warning or not,” Malcolm reasons. Gus forgets the seriousness of the moment and gawks at Malcolm, awed that the profiler is agreeing with him.

“You know I’m right, that’s what I’m sayin’.” Gus goes for a fist bump, but is left hanging as Malcolm is too wrapped up in the scene outside to notice it.

“We have to do something. I’ll go over there and find out what’s going on, you guys stay here and wait for my signal.” Malcolm leaps out of his chair and darts to the restaurant’s door before Shawn or Gus can reply. The bell on the door jingles his departure across the street, leaving the friends staring at the seat the profiler just vacated.

“Did he just…..run towards a bunch of drug dealers? And drugs? On his own?” Gus asks Shawn.

“It’s a good thing that this place makes you pay at the counter, because I didn’t bring my wallet, and we just had three pizzas at New York prices!” Shawn whines.

“Which Malcolm paid for. Besides, when do you ever think about needing a wallet. Stop thinking about the bill!” Gus chides. “And that includes the bill for the homemade pies that we probably won’t get to eat tonight. Malcolm wouldn’t just run into danger like that, would he? He’s just thrown himself into the middle of a drug deal, what are we supposed to do?!”

“We could use the code word. He gave us a code word, didn’t he? I could’ve sworn he gave us a code word.”

“No code word, Shawn. He just said ‘wait for my signal,’ whatever that means.”

“You sure no code word? Maybe ‘ba-na-na’ or ‘Su-Sussudio’ or ‘Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?’”

“There was no code word, Shawn. And if there were, it certainly wouldn’t be one of those.”

Shawn tries to reassure Gus. “Look, buddy, I’m sure Malcolm called Lieutenant Smooth to tell him what was happening before he went in there. Maybe he gave _him_ a code word.”

“Uh-uh, I was watching his ass the whole time, he just ran over there, coat flapping and arms flailing. I think we need to do something.” Gus thinks back to their visit earlier in the day. “Spears, Shawn!”

“You did it again, Gus. This is no time to be thinking about Britney.”

“No, Shawn. _Spears!_ On the octopus card! Mrs.Goldberg said we had all the resources we need to go into battle. And something about relying on friends. I think that message was meant for all of us!” he exclaims. “We have everything we need to help each other.”

“What if the message was meant just for Malcolm?” Shawn ponders. “I mean, surely he called for back up. That’s probably what all those spears were about. He’s supposed to be smart, isn’t he?”

“Of course he is Shawn, he was trained by the FBI, remember?”

Shawn’s not convinced. “He’s not perfect, though, I mean, remember when he said he didn’t like tacos?”

“Of course I remember. What kind of person doesn’t like tacos?”

“A crazy person, that’s who,” says Shawn.

“You mean, the same kind of person who doesn’t call for backup?”

The two reach the same conclusion at the same time.

“ _He doesn’t like tacos. He didn’t call for backup_ ,” they say in unison.

“What do we do, Shawn? He could get killed over there!” Gus almost shouts, his question starting to turn heads from nearby diners.

“Why don’t we just go over there and save him?”

“Shawn, I did not come to New York to end up living through a real-life _Breaking Bad_ situation,” Gus deadpans.

“We don’t have time to argue right now! Your favorite celebrity could be in trouble as we speak!”

Gus has a pained look on his face, and he’s not sure if it’s from the pizza or the stress. “Okay, deal. But I’m not playing Roy Hanson in _Gremlins_ this time.”

“Oh, it’ll be fine. Come on, Roy, let’s go save your boyfriend.”

“He is not my boyfriend, Shawn.”

“Those googly eyes you were throwing at him earlier would say otherwise. Honestly, you two are so over-the-top sometimes,” Shawn remarks as he throws the door open and the pair cross the street, on their way to save one of the FBI’s former finest.

******

To their shock, they find the main door to the club unlocked and unattended.

“Wow, I didn’t peg New York as a door-wide-open kind of place,” Shawn marvels.

“That’s because the locals know better than to interrupt a drug deal.”

The two men tentatively stick their heads around the door and are greeted by an empty vestibule, not a soul to be seen. Gus is nervous at the lack of resistance. “You go first Shawn, I’ve seen this next scene in any action movie, and the black friend is always the one who gets it.”

“Forget _Gremlins_ , what if we’re MacReady and Childs in _The Thing_ instead? Then we don’t know which one gets it first.”

“If this is _The Thing_ , then we're _both_ screwed.”

“Oh, fine, then channel your best Chris Washington just to be safe, and I’ll make the heroic entrance.” The team finds themselves at the edge of the bare dance floor, the only illumination emanating from the odd light bulbs in the corners of the room. Shadows from the bar stools and tables break up the dim light, making it even harder to see where they are going.

Trying to walk as silently as possible, they head across the dance floor towards the access door next to the bar. Along the way, Shawn catches his shin on an abandoned cleaning cart, its jagged edge slicing a small gash, two inches in length, just above his ankle. The contents of the cart make a terrible clatter, echoing across the empty club. Gus tries to steady the broom and mop sticking up from the cart in a frantic attempt to mitigate the noise. His efforts are stopped short by another noise.

“Gus! I’ve been hit!” Shawn whimpers, grabbing onto his friend’s shirt for support.

“What? Where?!” Gus spins around wildly looking for an assailant. Shawn points down to the cut slowly oozing blood onto his sock.

“It’s a big one, isn’t it?” he says, eyes squeezed shut. “I can feel it. I could lose my leg for the sake of your man crush!”

Before Gus can reply, he is distracted by the sound of grunting coming from the direction of the basement. The grunts are shortly followed by cries that sound an awful lot like Malcolm. “I think they’re down there. C’mon, son, don’t be Sheldon Cooper.” Gus clicks his tongue at Shawn’s woeful performance. “The Black Knight, you are not.”

"I move for no man!"

"You'll move for me,” Gus replies. “You go first, hero." He gives Shawn a shove in the direction of the unmarked door.

Shawn winces dramatically as they tiptoe down the stairs towards the muffled voices. Using silent stealth mode, they crab-step their way down the hall, Shawn in the lead. He peers cautiously into the room they saw the first time they were there, careful to remain unseen. He can see their friend on the ground, curled into a ball, trying to protect himself from three pairs of boots pummeling his body one after the other. None of the boots are vintage Air Jordans. Shawn can just make out that particular bartender standing well away from the action. Shawn notes that it’s four men in the room and Malcolm, who is not only outnumbered but already down.

“Your buddy’s not looking so hot,” Shawn updates Gus in a hushed tone. “We’ve got to get in there and help him, _now_.”

“How are we supposed to help him? Those men have guns, Shawn. All we have is Saturday-morning-cartoon training.”

“We’ll go in, and then I’ll think of something.”

“What? Go in? That’s a terrible idea!”

“Can you think of a better one?” Shawn stands up straight from his crouched position.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Shawn. Shawn!” Gus whispers as loudly as he can as Shawn steps into the room, grabbing onto Gus’s sleeve to pull him along.

“Excuse me, is this where I can find some drugs?” Shawn shouts.

******

The kicking stops as the men all turn to stare at the intruders. The grunting also stops, and Malcolm angles his head to stare in shock at his brazen friends.

“So, I have it on good authority from another club owner that a drug deal was going down today, and I am here to get my own club in on the action!”

“This is a private meeting, and you’re not welcome, sir.” Hammerschmidt drawls, his gray coif staying mysteriously still. “Hang on, I remember you two from the other night. You were in the club!”

“Of course we were, we had to check out the competition in town. And I’ll have you know that I am no ‘sir,’ I am Alan Barton, entrepreneur extraordinaire, and this is my nefarious friend… Or foe… Pumpkin Spice Vanilla Latte.”

“ _Vanilla_ Latte?” Gus sounds insulted.

“Vanilla Latte… Wait for iiiiiit… With. _Chocolate_. Ice.

“Oh, you know that’s right,” says Gus, relieved.

We are the owners of what will soon be the greatest ’80s-themed Agadoo bar in the greater Manhattan area!” Shawn exclaims.

“Aga-what?”

“A-ga-doo doo doo push pineapple shake the tree….” Shawn rocks side to side to the beat in his head, punctuating each word with arm movements to match, and bumping arms with Gus to try and get him to join in.

There are no takers.

“It’ll make more sense when we open. But every good bar needs a solid party scene, and that’s where I hear you come in!” Shawn turns his attention to Air Jordans, pressed against the wall and looking even less comfortable with their unexpected guests than he had when his colleagues were playing soccer practice with Malcolm as the ball. Shawn has the fleeting thought that the bartender’s main concern there was not damaging his sneakers. Shawn can hardly blame him. “Those are some sweet, sweet kicks, man,” Shawn says to him.

“Uh...thanks, they’re…” The man looks down at his sneakers, seeming a little confused, but then he snaps out of it. “Now, hang on. I don’t want nothin’ to do with this, leave me out of it.”

“Well, which one of you do I talk to about making my club the coolest in town? With a bit of ice, maybe? Or snow?” Shawn’s finger flicks between the men, who each look at the others, unsure how to respond.

Air Jordans narrows his eyes suspiciously at the paper bag Gus is holding in his hand. Finally, he speaks up. “Yo, what’s in the bag?”

“Bag?” Gus looks down. He had completely forgotten about the cookies that he’s still carrying. “Uh…” he stammers.

Hit by sudden inspiration, Shawn jumps in to save Gus. “That!” He points to the bag, “That, my friends, is the future of my club and could be the future of yours, if you do indeed decide to collaborate with us.”

The men look at each other, wary, but interested.

“Cookies!” Shawn continues, gathering all of his confidence. The faces opposite him aren’t exactly friendly, but they haven’t told him to shut up, either. “Oh, but not just any cookies. These are called ‘snowballs.’ Get it? Snowballs? Don’t worry, you’ll get it in a minute. They are covered in powdered sugar. But not _just_ powdered sugar. Powdered sugar, mixed with cocaine. Our patrons absolutely love them! We’ve already started testing the market and we know these are going to be a huge hit. But we were only able to get a small supply to use for our samples, and we’re looking for a more consistent supply in larger amounts.” He interlaces his hands together and points at the motley crew with both index fingers. “Which is where you come in. We can make this a one-way for all of us.”

“A what?” Hammerschmidt asks.

“He means a ‘win-win,’” Gus clarifies.

“Cookies with cocaine?” asks Gold Chain. “Does that actually work? Don’t you have to get it directly into the bloodstream?”

“Oh, it works all right,” Shawn assures him, gaining even more confidence from their obvious interest. “In fact, it takes the high and turns it up to _e-lev-en._ You see, similar to hash brownies, people just keep eating them because they love them so much, and they don’t notice the full effect until slightly later and then – wait for iiiiiit – wham!! They’re flying high as a kite, and they _love_ it.“

He gives Gus a fast-repeating ‘come here’ gesture while still looking at the men. “Say something scientific.”

Gus pauses before slowly stating, “Uh…it’s called a delay onset reaction.”

Shawn points at Gus with a giant smile on his face as if Gus just said something astounding, “What he said! They come back for more again and again. Right now, we’ve got pecan cookies with powdered sugar, but we can easily change the recipe for people with nut allergies. In fact, we can do anything with them. We can even dip them in chocolate frosting.”

The biggest guy in the room shuffles slightly, unfolding his beefy arms to put his hands in his pockets, and all eyes turn his way. He shrugs before his deep voice says softly, “I like chocolate frosting.”

While Shawn spins a tale of fantastical baking, Malcolm uses the time to take a few shallow breaths while the focus is drawn away from him. He’s lost count of how many times he had been kicked in the last few minutes, and the wayward shoe to his head is giving him a pounding headache. As his oxygen-depleted body recharges itself, Malcolm can’t help but notice the similarity between Shawn’s performance and his own impromptu speech at the Taylor wedding. Shawn also has a penchant for words and an equal ability to wrest the attention of a crowd for his own benefit. To be able to distract men from continuing to commit the violent acts they were performing moments earlier is an impressive skill to have. Malcolm is grateful for the reprieve.

Seemingly out of baking ideas, Shawn motions to the bag Gus is holding to keep the show moving. “Vanilla Latte, why don’t you allow these fine gentlemen to taste some of your samples.”

Gus is not amused. “I thought we talked about ‘Vanilla Latte,’ Shaw-ah, Alan.”

“I believe we did. Seems like just moments ago.”

“It was moments ago.”

“My apologies. Chocolate Ice.”

Gus nods to Shawn and notices the men moving closer, eyeing the bag with interest. He clutches the package to his chest. “Alan, these are expensive. Are you sure you want me to waste them on people who may not even take us up on our offer?”

Gold Chain guffaws, “Hang on pineapple guy, we haven’t decided anything yet. We need to taste the product, though. If the patrons really like them the way you say they do, we could be looking at a deal.”

Gus holds the bag open and out in front of him, effectively drawing the men towards himself and away from Malcolm. With everybody’s attention on Gus and his cookies, Shawn takes the opportunity to move closer to Malcolm and get a better look at him. In the heat of the moment, his shin no longer seems to be slowing him down. Malcolm’s face is _not_ pretty, but the eye that Shawn can see is as attentive as ever. Shawn glances down at his watch, then darts his eyes towards the hallway before returning to Malcolm’s gaze. Malcolm has a flash of understanding. Shawn gets a grip on the profiler’s arm and tries to help him to his feet, but it’s clear that Malcolm is not quite up to the task.

Air Jordans is chewing the cookie with gusto, sugar gently dusting his shirt as he bites into the buttery treat. What Shawn hadn’t bet on was that he would lick the powder off his shirt in an effort to taste the ‘cocaine.’ His brow furrows as his taste buds attempt to locate the drug in the coating. “I can only taste powdered sugar in this. No coke at all.”

“You can’t taste it?!” Shawn cries. “They must have gotten the ratio wrong in this batch, can you believe it, Chocolate Ice? I can’t believe Pierre messed this up, _again!_ ”

Air Jordans now forgoes eating the cookie entirely, instead opting to scrape the dust off and snort it directly. The room is dead silent as the group waits for the verdict. Finally, the man confirms, “There’s no coke in this at all, this guy is lying.”

Upon hearing this, Gold Chain’s countenance devolves from curiosity to building fury. Muscles clenches his fists, preparing himself to step in if he’s needed. Gold Chain narrows his eyes at Gus. “So, these cookies are fake?”

“Well, they’re definitely cookies.” “Of course, they’re cookies!” The duo talk over one another.

Hammerschmidt asks, “Are you two even partners?” To which Gus is quick to clarify, “Partners in business, absolutely,” at the same time that Shawn is quick to confirm, “Oh, definitely. He completes me.”

Gold Chain ignores their babbling and pulls a gun out of his pants. Muscles follows suit, training his firearm on Malcolm and Shawn while Gold Chain motions with his for Gus to go join them. Gus raises his hands, still holding the paper bag, and scampers over to his friends.

Air Jordans is about to pull his gun out, too, when he’s stopped by a warning from Hammerschmidt. “Whoa, whoa. Can we not do this in the club, please? I’ve already got one death to deal with, I don’t need three more.” Hammerschmidt clearly has his own gun tucked into his waistband, but he’s choosing to leave it untouched.

“Shut up, _I_ decide who gets to know about my business,” Gold Chain barks. Turning on the trio, he threatens, “I don’t know who you are, but you’re all done here.” He raises the gun at the men, bouncing it between Shawn, Gus, and Malcolm as Gold Chain tosses up who to shoot first. Shawn bites his lip to prevent himself from reciting out loud ‘eeny, meeny, miney, moe.’

“Look,” Malcolm pleads from the floor, attempting to raise at least one hand in surrender, “I get that we interrupted you, really, I do. But there’s no need to hurt my friends here.”

Gus whips his head back towards Malcolm and asks, “We’re friends?!”

Malcolm rolls his eyes as well as the blood on his face will let him. “For something like this, yah, we’re friends!” he whispers back through gritted teeth.

Shawn looks calmly at his watch one more time before he declares, “I think you’ll find it might be in your best interest to skedaddle, lads.”

“You aren’t telling us what to do, we’re the ones with the guns!” Gold Chain snarls.

“Who’s to say that we don’t have guns, too?”

“I’m not seeing any.”

“Well, I didn’t say _I_ was the one holding them, did I?” Shawn asks, rhetorically.

The room falls silent as everybody turns their attention to the sound of multiple footfalls clanging down the metal stairs coming off the side door to the basement.

“There’s my guns, and unlike the cookies, those are real – you can be ahead of the game if you get your hands up now!” Shawn advises.

******

JT and Dani come sweeping through the door, followed by three other officers, announcing their arrival with shouts of “NYPD!”

The four men – club staff and drug dealers – all snap their heads towards the voices behind them, and Gus takes that opportunity to bend down over Malcolm’s prone body. He grabs the injured profiler’s arm and starts to pull him towards the back wall. “Come on, Mr. Bright! The team’s here!”

“Can’t see.. what?” he mutters. When Gus turns him over, he realizes that one set of his eyelids has stuck together due to a trail of blood trickling down from his hairline.

“Never mind, I’ll get you out of here.” Gus continues his journey to the back wall, unimpeded, as the dealers and bartenders are preoccupied with the arrival of Malcolm’s team and the officers from the narcotics unit.

After a few tense moments of shouting, the two drug dealers, along with Air Jordans, raise their arms in surrender, not wanting a fight. Hammerschmidt, who remains out of sightline for the incoming raid, decides to take his chance. He bolts through the door and heads down the hall, hoping to make it up the stairs and out the opposite door the police are using before anyone notices. He makes it all the way to the staircase and is just putting his foot down on the third set of stairs when the door above him slams open, and he finds himself looking up into the barrel of another gun.

“Back downstairs, Mr. Hammerschmidt. Now,” Gil orders. The bartender raises his hands, turns, and slowly stomps back down the stairs. Gil alights at the bottom of the stairs and quickly handcuffs their suspect. The lieutenant walks Luke over to the rest of the criminals, now being handcuffed, and read their Miranda rights. Shawn joins his friends against the back wall where Gus is helping to support Malcolm’s sagging form.

“Gus! Buddy, you were so brave! I would have helped, but my shin wouldn’t let me.” he laments. He makes a show of lifting his pant leg to rub at the gash and winces to demonstrate to his friends just how bad off he is.

“Your shin. Sure, Shawn,” Gus deadpans.

Shawn ignores Gus’s tone and hones in on Malcolm’s groggy form, now sitting upright on the floor but staying vertical only by the help of both Gus and the wall. “Malcolm, I’m glad you’re okay! Though I have to ask, do you always run into buildings where crimes are going down without backup?”

“Constantly!” Dani’s voice calls out from behind them.

Malcolm looks down in embarrassment before he replies, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” His brow furrows for a moment, and then he asks, “How did Gil know to come here?”

Gus smiles at Malcolm. “We listened to a _real_ psychic, the lovely Mrs. Rochelle Goldberg, and called for backup.”

“You two…called my team for backup?” Malcolm says.

“Well, it’s not like Lassie’s around the corner to help.” Shawn shrugs.

Malcolm huffs at the joke, “That’s fair enough. But how did you know _I_ didn’t call?”

“Tacos!” they answer in unison, which doesn’t clear up the question for Malcolm.

Gil sends three of the handcuffed men off with narcotics but indicates that Luke Hammerschmidt needs to stay in the custody of Major Crimes since he is the only one who is being arrested on suspicion of murder. Satisfied that all the offenders are under control, Gil wanders over to the trio at the back wall. “One day, Bright, you might surprise me and call _before_ you get used for kicking practice.”

“I might surprise myself.” Malcolm adjusts himself against the wall and grimaces.

“What happened here, anyway?” Gil asks.

Malcolm opens his mouth to answer but Gus interrupts. “Let Shawn do the wrap-up. Shawn always does the wrap-up.”

******

Still feeling lousy, but struggling to his feet, nonetheless, Malcolm is happy to give up the floor to Shawn.

Shawn brightens measurably and stands up straight, taking a few steps forward to make sure everyone in the room can hear him. “Like Bruce Willis was dead at the end of _Sixth Sense_ , I will reveal how it was done!” He pauses until he is certain he has everyone’s attention.

“Luke Hammerschmidt!” Shawn points to the man in question. “Good-looking man. Odd choice of hair color, but we’ll let that slide. In an established relationship – three years – with another good-looking man, Clay Wheeler. A decent man from Hackensack with NO criminal record. An English teacher, for the love of God! Picture-perfect couple.”

Gus slowly shakes his head and mutters, “What is this world coming to when people start killing English teachers.”

“Mr. Hammerschmidt was able to keep his villainous, drug-dealing ways underground for their whole relationship, right up until a few days ago.

“When Clay Wheeler came to the club this past Saturday, he somehow found out that his boyfriend was involved with a drug ring. And despite the matchy-match rings that they both wore – what did you call that, Gus?”

Gus provides the term Shawn is looking for, “A homologue.”

“Homo what?” asks the bartender looking offended. “What did you call me?”

Gus hastens to explain. “A homologue is something that has basically the same or similar form as another thing.”

Hammerschmidt relaxes. “Oh.”

Shawn picks up where he left off, “So, despite the rings, the...uh…adjective, please, Gus.”

“ _Homologous_ rings.”

“Yeah, those – that they both wore, Luke decided that his allegiance is to the drugs and NOT to his partner.”

Gus tsks. “Dude, you chose...poorly.”

“Indeed, he did!” Shawn agrees. “Luke, you picked the wrong day to start murdering people. You see, Clay being a good guy, a decent guy, probably tried to convince his partner to come clean. Maybe even gave him an ultimatum: ‘me or the drugs.’

“He was so upset, he ran out of the bar, threatening to go to the authorities. Well, Gray-hair couldn’t let that happen. He ran out after him, intending only to stop him. Luke packs a gun, but he didn't use it. Instead, he picked up whatever he could find in a hasty attempt to stop Clay from outing him in a different way- to the police. He ended up grabbing a piece of brick from that crumbling mural a few blocks down, but he threw it a little too hard. He only meant to stop his lover, but he ended up stopping him for good.

“He was sorry for what he had done. We know because he didn’t just leave Clay’s body where it fell. He dragged the body away from some garbage bags and arranged it very nicely,” he speaks to Luke, “una poca de gracia for your partner of three years.” Luke casts his eyes downwards, and Shawn continues, “But he couldn’t let a little murder interfere with future drug deals, after all, that’s why George Johnson, the owner of this joint, keeps him employed. So, it was mums-the-word and back to business.”

Shawn looks directly at Luke. “You’re a bad person, Hammerschmidt. Shame on you for sharing a name with the mighty Skywalker.”

Hammerschmidt does look ashamed after Shawn has just rattled off the circumstances of his partner’s murder with great accuracy.

Malcolm turns to Gus and says, “He may not be a psychic, but he’s a damn good detective.”

Gus smiles. “You know that’s right.”

Shawn is not quite done chastising the bartender. “Not only did you murder your partner and engage in a drug deal, but you also harmed our dear friend, here.” He points towards the wall behind him.

This has Gus rankled again and he says sternly in Hammerschmidt’s direction, “Nobody puts Malcolm in a corner!”

A silence falls over the room. Everybody looks to Shawn, wondering what he will say next.

Shawn glances around him. “That’s it, that’s the wrap-up.”

Gil is the first to move, pushing the handcuffed bartender in front of him. Shawn puts a hand on Luke’s shoulder as he walks past and points to Gil with the other. “This man has a finer head of hair than you’ll ever have, no matter what color you dye it.”

Luke looks confused as Gil hands him off to an officer waiting to take the suspect back to the station.

******

“Ah!” Malcolm winces as he tries taking a few steps.

Gil states, “I’m getting you a bus, Bright, make sure you didn’t break anything.”

“Make it two, Lieutenant! My leg will need some attention.” Shawn waggles his leg in Gil’s direction, the blood has stopped oozing, but half the top of his white sock is now red. Gil looks unimpressed at the injury.

“You know what? I think we’ll stick with the one, and they can check you out afterwards.” Gil counters.

“Fine,” Shawn agrees. “But you should definitely request the most attractive medic on shift right now. My man, Gus, hasn’t met anyone in your fine city yet, and we’re running out of time.”

“You’ll get a bus and whoever happens to be driving it,” Gil affirms. He turns back towards Malcolm and remarks, “You did a very dumb thing today, and you’re lucky it paid off. Don’t do it again.”

“No chance of that, Lieutenant, as we’re leaving this weekend,” Gus assures him.

Gil smirks before replying, “I wasn’t talkin’ to you.” As he walks away, Shawn and Gus look at Malcolm who’s now fully away from the wall and standing on his own, but currently bent over with both hands on his thighs and looking a little sheepish.

“Are we sure he was an FBI agent?” Shawn mumbles.

“According to the internet, yeah.”

Now that all the suspects have been ushered out of the room, there is a lull in the commotion, and Gus spots Dani on her own. “Shawn, I gotta…”

Shawn follows his line of sight and pushes him towards the statuesque detective. “Oh yeah, bud, you go.”

Gus sidles over and hovers awkwardly for a moment before he can catch Dani’s eye.

“Detective Powell, ah, Dani. I just wanted to say, you and your team do nice work. You're very impressive. The way you point that gun and whatnot." Gus breaks out into one of his sexiest smiles and lifts his eyebrows for a moment.

Dani seems…unimpressed. “Thanks, I guess. Great work on the stalling,” is all she can think to commend him on.

Gus puffs out his chest and nods his head. “Mmmhmm, that’s right. We are experts at stalling, just ask anyone in Santa Barbara.”

“I’ll be sure to do that if I’m ever in town. Look, I need to follow up on some paperwork upstairs, so....”

“Oh, sure, yeah, you go for it. No problems.” Gus backs away to rejoin Shawn, who has struck up a conversation with JT. The detective eyes the bag of cookies in Gus’s hand with interest.

“Whatcha got there, Gus?”

“Psychic cookies.”

Shawn says, “Those sure did come in handy! What did I tell ya, Gus, good thing we didn’t eat ‘em all in the car.”

Gus glares at Shawn in response. He holds the bag open for JT. “Want some?”

“Sweet. I love me some cookies.”

******

Shawn turns back to the group with a clap of his hands. “Well, at least we can be sure that nobody here was working for Ramon Esperanza,” he jokes.

JT chuckles. “The only way that’s happening is if we time-jumped to Christmas 1990. I’m not seeing any gray knit jumpers with any of these badges, so I think we’re safe.”

“Uh, Who is Ramon Esperanza? It’s not a name I recognize,” Malcolm admits.

“And it’s one you’ll never have to know when we do right by you and skip over _Die Hard 2,_ ” JT assures him.

“My man knows quality,” says Shawn, offering a fist bump. JT grins and happily meets the Santa Barbara psychic in the middle.

“What is going on here, since when do you do fist bumps?” Malcolm asks.

“Since your macadamia here showed good taste in movies,” JT replies.

Malcolm’s jaw hangs open, as JT happily saunters away towards the hallway. He confers with someone they can’t see on the other side of the wall before calling out,

“Bright, your ride’s here, and Gil’s asked me to come with. No leaving the hospital until you get checked out this time.”

“I don’t need a babysitter JT, I’m perfectly capable of seeing myself to the hospital,” Malcolm protests.

Shawn tells him, “Maybe next time when somebody offers you tacos, you should accept them. Then you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Malcolm grunts as he slowly straightens himself up and starts walking “Never. Going. To. Happen.”

* * *

**CHAPTER NOTES / REFERENCES  
  
**

  * “That’s what she said.”   
  
[Earliest Documented Use of “That's What She Said" – Saturday Night Live, 1975](https://www.todayifoundout.com/index.php/2011/11/the-earliest-documented-use-of-thats-what-she-said-was-from-saturday-night-live-in-1975/)  
  
[The Weird Origins of "That's What She Said"](https://www.thrillist.com/news/nation/origin-history-of-thats-what-she-said)  
  
[Most Popular 'Origin' of "That's What She Said" (Wayne's World)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZqZci_8wuC0)  
  
  

  * The entire front part of the pizza inevitably flops over...  
Malcolm folds his pizza in such a way that the tip stays perfectly horizontal, just waiting to be bitten into.  
  
 _Apparently, Gus doesn't know the protocol and chooses a pizza with toppings._  
  
[This is the Only Way to Eat a Slice of New York-style Pizza](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vnJkM5lShaY)




  * “You sure no code word? Maybe ‘ba-na-na’ or ‘Su-Sussudio’ or ‘Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?’” **  
**  
[psych "Shawn Gives 'Banana' as a Spelling Bee Word" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X66vlH5mI_o)  
  
[Sussudio – Phil Collins](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r0qBaBb1Y-U)  
  
[Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious – Mary Poppins](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Pu1adxqUAg)




  * “Spears, Shawn!”  
“You did it again, Gus. This is no time to be thinking about Britney.”

[Oops!...I Did It Again – Britney Spears](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CduA0TULnow)  
  
  


  * “I mean, surely he called for back up.”  
  
 _Did he? Doesn't Malcolm_ always _call for back up?_  
  
[Call. For. Backup.](https://twitter.com/prodigalsonfox/status/1194082070521212928)



  * “Shawn, I did not come to New York to end up living through a real-life _Breaking Bad_ situation.”  
  
"Breaking Bad _follows Walter White, a meek high school chemistry teacher who transforms into a ruthless player in the local methamphetamine drug trade." (wikipedia)  
  
_[Breaking Bad (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0903747/) _  
  
  
_

  * “I’m not playing Roy Hanson in _Gremlins_ this time.”  
  
 _Roy Hansen is a character in_ Gremlins _who fits into the '80s horror trope of "black guy always dies first." Here's an article explaining the trope._  
  
[Modern Films Subvert Stereotypes of Black Characters in Horror](https://theithacan.org/columns/modern-films-subvert-stereotypes-of-black-characters-in-horror/)  
  
[Gremlins (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0087363/)



  * “Forget _Gremlins_ , what if we’re MacReady and Childs in _The Thing_ instead? Then we don’t know which one gets it first.”  
“If this is _The Thing_ , then we're both screwed.”  
  
 _Another reference to the '80s horror trope of "black guy always dies first."  
In this case, there is a white guy and a black guy left at the very end, and the audience doesn't know who is going to die first._  
  
 _ **SPOILER WARNING** for ending scene of _The Thing:  
[The Thing "Why Don't We Wait Here, See What Happens" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GA4Ozqt7338)  
  
  


  * “Oh, fine, then channel your best Chris Washington just to be safe, and I’ll make the heroic entrance.”  
  
 _Yet another reference to the '80s horror trope of "black guy always dies first."  
_ _In this case, the black guy makes it out alive.  
  
_[10 Scary Movies Where Black People Survive ‘Til The End](https://www.bet.com/celebrities/exclusives/horror-movies-black-people-survive.html)  
  
[Get Out (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5052448/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1)  
  
  



  * "Don’t be Sheldon Cooper.”  
  
[The Big Bang Theory, Sheldon Cooper "Sheldon's Appendix" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qa77k25g6wQ)  
  
  

  * “The Black Knight, you are not.”  
"I move for no man!"  
  
[Monty Python "The Black Knight" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZmInkxbvlCs)  
  
  


  * I am Alan Barton...We are the owners of what will soon be the greatest ’80s-themed Agadoo bar in the greater Manhattan area!”  
“Aga-what?”  
“A-ga-doo doo doo push pineapple shake the tree….”  
  
 _ **Spot the Pineapple!**_  
 _Fair warning: if you choose to listen to this song, you may never get it out of your head.  
(Also, Alan Barton is one of the singers.)_  
  
[Agadoo – Black Lace (1984, Top of the Pops)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afRqVmMf1Lo)  
  
  

  * "This is my nefarious friend… Or foe…”  
  
[Friend or Foe – Adam Ant](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4IP-2Ck-wak)  
  
  


  * “Vanilla Latte… Wait for iiiiiit… With. Chocolate. Ice."  
  
[Ice Ice Baby – Vanilla Ice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rog8ou-ZepE&list=RDrog8ou-ZepE)  
  
 _Just for fun, I thought I'd link this one as well:_  
[Jim Carey does Vanilla Ice (He's so White, White, Baby) – In Living Color](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0A7tLVIsuNw)  
  
  
  

  * "It takes the high and turns it up to _e-lev-en."_  
  
[This Is Spinal Tap "These go to 11" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KOO5S4vxi0o)  
  
  
  

  * "They’re flying high as a kite, and they love it.“  
  
 _Shout-out to_ Prodigal Son _Season 1, Episode 5: The Trip_  
 _Gil: "He’s high as a kite."_  
 _Malcolm: "I’m higher than a kite."_  
  
  
  

  * “Say something scientific.”  
  
 _Mr. Peepers' mother was proud of her son for being a science teacher. To show off his intellect to her friends, she would ask him to "say something scientific."_  
 _The show is from the 1950s and probably would not have been on Shawn's radar, but it was a line my father recently told me about, so it was in my head when I wrote this, and it seems to work_ here.  
  
[Mister Peepers (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0044279/?ref_=tt_urv)  
  
  
  

  * “Right now, we’ve got pecan cookies with powdered sugar, but we can easily change the recipe.”  
  
[Snowball Cookies with Pecans Recipe (Land O Lakes)](https://www.landolakes.com/recipe/20055/snowball-cookies/)  
  
  
  

  * Malcolm can’t help but notice the similarity between Shawn’s performance and his own impromptu speech at the Taylor wedding.   
  
[Malcolm Bright Giving Speech at Taylor Wedding](https://ibb.co/TM9j46S)  
  
  
  

  * Shawn glances down at his watch.  
  
 _Shout-out to_ Prodigal Son _Season 1, Episode 4: Designer Complicity where Malcolm keeps glancing at his watch so he can let the bad guy know (too late) when back up arrives._  
  
  
  

  * “He completes me.”  
  
[Jerry Maguire "You Complete Me" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sze0JlKaTyE)  
  
  
  

  * Shawn bites his lip to prevent himself from reciting out loud ‘eeny, meeny, miney, moe.’  
  
 _Everyone knows it, but he's a little history:_  
  
[Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe (All Nursery Rhymes)](https://allnurseryrhymes.com/eeny-meeny-miny-moe/)  
  
  
  

  * “Like Bruce Willis was dead at the end of _Sixth Sense,_ I will reveal how it was done!”  
  
[Jizz In My Pants – The Lonely Island](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VLnWf1sQkjY)  
  
  
  

  * “Dude, you chose...poorly.”  
  
[Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade "He Chose Poorly" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ubw5N8iVDHI)  
  
  

  * “Luke, you picked the wrong day to start murdering people."  
  
[Airplane "Looks Like I Picked the Wrong Week to Quit..." compilation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lm8fYf53SMg)  
  
  


  * “Una poca de gracia for your partner of three years.”  
  
 _This comes from the movie_ La Bamba, _starring our very own 'Gil' (Lou Diamond Phillips). 'Una poca de gracia' in Spanish means 'a little grace.'_  
  
[La Bamba – Lou Diamond Phillips](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hEqQ479Ud5U)  
  
  
  

  * Shawn looks directly at Luke. “You’re a bad person, Hammerschmidt. Shame on you for sharing a name with the mighty Skywalker.”  
  
 _'Cause nobody knows who he is, right?_  
  
[Luke Skywalker (Wookieepedia)](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Luke_Skywalker)  
  
  
  

  * “Nobody puts Malcolm in a corner!”  
  
[Dirty Dancing "Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner" clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyC--vsiGEI)  
  
  

  * “Well, at least we can be sure that nobody here was working for Ramon Esperanza.”  
“The only way that’s happening is if we time-jumped to Christmas 1990. I’m not seeing any gray knit jumpers with any of these badges, so I think we’re safe.”  
“Uh, Who is Ramon Esperanza? It’s not a name I recognize,” Malcolm admits.  
“And it’s one you’ll never have to know when we do right by you and skip over _Die Hard 2_ ,” JT assures him.  
“My man knows quality,” says Shawn.  
  
[Die Hard 2 (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0099423/)





	14. Pineapple

“Who ordered an autopsy report with a tropical twist?” Edrisa calls, as she enters the conference room. She’s holding a platter of freshly cut fruit along with the requisite morgue folder.

“Edrisa, what are you doing?” Gil sounds exasperated.

“Malcolm told me that the Santa Barbara boys were coming to say goodbye, so I thought I would repay the kind gesture they showed to me a few days ago. Morgue Tacos, meet the Precinct Fruit Palooza!”

“That looks spectacular, Edrisa, thank you,” Shawn greets her. “Now, this is what hospitality looks like!” He plucks a fresh strawberry half off the plate and pops it in his mouth.

“You’re most welcome, Shawn. I have another autopsy I’m about to start if you want one more look at the place?” Edrisa throws a thumb in the direction of the door, her smile bright and welcoming as if there could be nothing better to do.

Shawn looks over at Gus, who has managed to pale slightly at the suggestion of returning downstairs. “While that sounds like an amazing time, I think we’ll give it a pass today.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“What about the other thing in your hand, Edrisa?” Gil reminds her.

“What? Oh, yes! Final autopsy report for Clay Wheeler is complete. The tox screen came back; as expected there was only alcohol in Mr. Wheeler’s system when he died, but not at toxic levels. Confirmed COD was the blunt force trauma to the head.”

“Thanks for that.” Gil takes the folder from her.  
  
“Oh, and…”  
  
“Yes, Edrisa?”  
  
“Prints came back from the murder weapon. Once again, as expected, they are a 100% match to Luke Hammerschmidt.” Edrisa gives a little bow to round off her performance. She turns her attention back to Shawn and Gus. “So, you’re leaving on Saturday? What are you going to do with the rest of your time in the city?”

“For all intensive purposes,” says Shawn, “we’ve already had one _hell_ of a vacation!”

“For all _intents_ _and_ purposes,” Gus corrects him.

“That’s what I said.”

“You said ‘ _intensive’_ purposes; the saying is ‘ _intents and_ purposes.’”

“Well, that’s just ridiculous.”

“He’s right, though.” Edrisa has an air of seriousness about her.

“Oh, Edrisa, don’t be-” Shawn cuts himself off. “I can’t say it, Gus. She’s too cute for a ‘don’t be.’”

Edrisa’s face lights up with a humongous smile. “You know that’s right,” she says, proudly.

Shawn and Gus do a double take. “Wait, did you just-” “How did you-”

“I may have overheard,” she explains.

Malcolm walks over to join them and get himself a piece of fruit. Shawn puts a hand on the profiler’s shoulder, squeezing fondly. “You sure you’re okay, Wonder Malc? You really took a beating, my friend, but you don’t look so worse for wear. Frankly, I was surprised you even came into work today.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Malcolm assures them, being careful not to move too much, so as not to elicit any groans of pain.

That earns a sarcastic remark from Dani. “Yeah, he’s always ‘fine.’ In fact, the last few times he was almost killed, he was ‘fine.’”

Gus teases Shawn, “I think Malcolm can give Despereaux a run for his money.”

“I hate to admit it, but you may be right. Your FBI dude is pretty tough.”

“Oh, you know that’s right, “says Gus.

Shawn makes a fist with each hand and holds them up to his sides. Standing between his oldest and newest friend, he receives a perfectly timed, three-way fist bump from the two of them.

Gus whips his phone out and opens up his ‘NYC: Must Do’ list, holding it out for Edrisa to see. “To answer your question, we have an entire list we’ve hardly checked anything off of yet.”

 _“He_ has a list,” says Shawn, pointing to Gus. “I'm not really a list guy, myself.”

“ _And_ Shawn owes me a Broadway show,” Gus gives Shawn a pointed look. “So our next stop is the ticket booth in Times Square to see what kind of seats we can get.”

“Oh, about that,” Malcolm interrupts and takes a moment to fish something out of his pocket. “I realized that the resolution of our case chewed into some of your time here, so please take these by way of an apology.”

Malcolm hands Gus two tickets to _The Phantom of the Opera._ “Oh. My. These are the best seats in the house! They should be sold out _months_ in advance! How did you get them?!”

“Perks of having old money.” Malcolm grins.

“This is amazing, Malcolm! I don’t know what to say.”

“He really doesn’t,” says Shawn. “Gus would walk 500 miles for those tickets.”

“That’s right," says Gus, “and 500 more.”

“That makes 10,000 miles!”

“ _One_ thousand miles, Shawn.”

“100,000 miles!”

“Oh, I get it!” says Malcolm, quite familiar with the song. “Because you’re _havering_ over these tickets, right?”

“Oh!” Shawn’s face creases into a dramatic wince. “Gus, Malcolm’s making up words, again. Tell Malcolm to stop making up words.”

Gus ignores Shawn. “Malcolm, why don’t you join us for the show?”

“Oh, that’s very nice of you to invite me, but I think I’ll let the two of you enjoy the rest of your vacation together.”

“We can still keep the shirts, right?” asks Gus. “Even though we didn’t get the chance to wear them?”

“Of course! Enjoy the shirts. I’m sure you’ll put Despereaux to shame.”

Gil and Dani wander over to say goodbye to the duo. Gil reaches out and shakes both of their hands. “I gotta admit, I had a feeling that you two weren’t going to be able to stay away from this case. That being said, there’s no denying you were helpful in the end. I can’t thank you enough for having the presence of mind to call us for backup. Who knows what kind of shape Malcolm would have been in if you hadn’t.”

Dani follows suit and also shakes their hands. “Yes, thank you for that. Thanks for having Malcolm’s back.”

JT, standing off to the side but listening in, gives a short cough into his fist and murmurs, “He’s missing the self-preservation gene.”

Figuring he has nothing to lose at this point, Gus flashes Dani the sexiest smile he can muster and says, “We always have each other’s back, and we _always_ call for backup.”

Shawn nods to that and adds, “Actually, Malcolm would’ve missed the entire deal if it weren’t for us.”

“That’s right,'' says Gus.

“How’s that?” Gil asks.

“We wanted homemade pie.”

The look of puzzlement on Gil’s face is not alleviated by this information. “I don’t get it.”

Malcolm explains to Gil how they ended up at the pizza place across from the club and just happened to notice that the drug deal they thought was happening on Tuesday was actually happening on Monday. “And all because Shawn and Gus had a hankering for homemade pie.”

“We never did get to try that pie,” says Gus.

“There’s still plenty of time in the week,” says Gil.

“Even if we do get to it this week, we're coming back for a full food tour, isn’t that right, Shawn? Eating our way through Manhattan.”

Malcolm raises an eyebrow, “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing since you got here?”

Gus thinks on this a moment. “We can't possibly hit all the places in just one week.”

“Or in a year, for that matter,” adds JT, appreciating the idea of ‘eating one’s way through Manhattan.’

“Promise you’ll come visit us in Santa Barbara some time,” Gus asks Malcolm. “We’ll take you to our favorite ice cream place”

Malcolm smiles warmly at the pair. “How can I turn down ice cream.”

JT walks over to join the rest of the group. “If we ever get to finish the _Die Hard_ anthology we’ll invite you back for a party,” he jokes to Shawn and Gus as he leans in to grab a piece of pineapple from the fruit platter.

Shawn jokes back, “I don’t know if we’d survive the plane trip, JT, maybe a zoom might have to do. Appreciate the offer, though, Jason Tourne. No, wait, Jefferson Troy.”

JT lets out a bark of laughter. “Not you, too? You and Malcolm, both, may as well just give it up,” he teases.

“Or…” Shawn moves in close to the detective and whispers something into his ear. JT’s face goes dumb with shock, and the succulent fruit drops to the floor.

“How do you…?” he starts.

“Wait…what just happened?” Malcolm asks, baffled.

“JT is no longer 'JT' in my mind, it is something else entirely,” Shawn boasts.

“He _knows?”_ Malcolm pouts, looking deflated _. “_ I’ve been guessing for months!”

Shawn gives Malcolm a wink. “Well, I am a psychic, remember?”

* * *

**CHAPTER NOTES / REFERENCES  
  
**

  * “Gus would walk 500 miles for those tickets.”  
“That’s right, says Gus, “and 500 more.”  
“That makes 10,000 miles!”  
“One thousand miles, Shawn.”  
“100,000 miles!”  
“Oh, I get it!” says Malcolm. “Because you’re _havering_ over these tickets, right?”  
  
[I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) – The Proclaimers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tbNlMtqrYS0)  
  
  

  * He leans in to grab a piece of pineapple from the fruit platter.

_**Spot the Pineapple!** **  
**_  
  

  * “If we ever get to finish the _Die Hard_ anthology we’ll invite you back for a party.”  
“I don’t know if we’d survive the plane trip, JT, maybe a zoom might have to do."  
  
 _Another reference to the plane crash scene in_ Die Hard 2.  
  
  


  * Jason Tourne  
  
[Jason Bourne (IMDb)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt4196776/)  
  
  
  

  * _Unofficial Bonus Reference:_  
 _  
_[Who Did Malcolm Bright Vote for in 2020?](https://ibb.co/RYsVMR4)  
  
  





End file.
